THE 
LOVE  OF 

LOOT 
AND  WOMEN 

BY 

EDGAR 
BEECHER 
BRONSON 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


U 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT 
AND  WOMEN 

By 
EDGAR  BEECHER  BRONSON 

Author  of 

"Reminiscences  of  a  Ranchman" 

"In  Closed  Territory" 

"The  Red  Blooded" 

"The  Vanguard,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

PRIVATELY  PRINTED 

MCMXVII 


Copyright,  1917,  by 

Norman  T.  A.  Munder  K  Co. 

Baltimore 


PS 

3fio 

•B783   . 


FOREWORD 

^  '  f  'H/S  volume,  entitled  "The  Love  of  Loot  and  Women,"  is 
/  now  y*rs£  printed  almost  a  year  after  the  death  of  its  la- 
M  mented  author,  because  it  was  desired  to  speedily  complete 
the  series  of  bis  published  works.  The  labor  spent  upon  preparing 
the  manuscript  was  in  the  nature  of  an  experiment  with  Mr. 
Bronson,  to  see  if  he  could  write  fiction  as  well  as  he  could  write 
some  other  kinds  of  literature.  He  believed  it  to  be  a  great  story. 
He  was  justified  in  this;  for,  if  every  author  did  not  believe  the 
work  in  hand  his  greatest,  he  could  not  muster  up  sufficient  cour 
age  to  finish  it.  It  is  a  love  story,  set  in  the  Philippines  about  the 
time  of  the  advent  of  the  Americans.  There  is  abundant  goodpic- 
turization  in  it,  particularly  about  Tony  Trigg,  the  fight-loving 
head  of  the  Constabulary,  and  more  especially  about  Esa,  the 
bird-child.  Joseph  Morine,  the  Australian  agent,  who  manages 
things  thereabouts,  is  drawn  from  the  life  of  a  friend  whom  he 
picked  up  in  Bolivia,  managing  a  plantation  and  mines  for 
American  owners.  Morine  is,  or  was,  all  that  he  is  depicted,  a 
world-wide  adventurer,  not  a  swashbuckler,  but  rather  of  a  use 
ful  and  commercial  type.  He  furnished  Mr.  Bronson  with  the 
glowing  pictures  presented  in  this  story,  having  had  years  of  ex 
perience  in  the  Philippines  and  having  rendered  invaluable  as 
sistance  to  the  Americans  when  they  took  possession.  Another 
good  character,  also  new  to  fiction,  is  Go-Peng,  a  philosophic 
and  worldly-wise  old  Chinaman.  Read  Go-Peng's  philosophy 
and  see  how  deep  down  into  our  civilization  he  digs,  carefully  ob 
serving  the  while  how  he  repeatedly  hits  off  present-day  situations 
in  the  countries  afflicted  by  war. 

Along  in  1907,  the  magazine  editors,  or  their  scouts,  were  oc 
casionally  startled  by  something  from  the  pen  of  Edgar  Beecher 
Bronson.  A  trenchant,  truthful  and  convincing  pen  be  wielded. 
Truth,  with  Mr.  Bronson,  was  evidently  stranger  than  fiction; 
it  was  stronger,  too.  Generally,  be  wrote  about  the  great  West, 
but  always  he  knew  just  about  what  he  was  going  to  depict. 


FOREWORD 

But  who  was  he,  and  where  did  he  bail  from?  And  then  when 
"Reminiscences  of  a  Ranchman"  (Experiences  ojhis  early  life) 
came  from  the  publishers  it  stood  revealed  that  the  author  was  a 
former  New  Yorker,  who  had  spent  nigh  onto  thirty  years  of  his 
life  in  owning  cattle  ranches,  and  he  knew  everything  about  the 
great  West  that  was  worth  knowing.  The  book  was  justly  acclaimed 
as  the  best  one  of  its  kind  ever  written. 

Along  in  1908,  President  Roosevelt  announced  that,  as  he 
was  going  to  vacate  the  White  House  the  next  spring,  he  was 
planning  to  go  on  a  bunting  expedition  to  British  East  Africa. 
He  did  not  know  it  then,  but  he  had  been  anticipated  in  this  by 
Mr.  Bronson,  who  was  ready  to  leave  Mombasa  after  leisurely 
gathering  a  large  collection  of  trophies,  and  writing  the  book 
entitled  "In  Closed  Territory,"  just  as  Mr.  Roosevelt  and  his 
party  of  hunters  were  sailing  down  the  coast  to  make  the  same 
landing.  "In  Closed  Territory"  was  so  called  because  Mr.  Bron 
son  obtained  the  last  permit  to  hunt  in  territory  which  was  to  be 
closed  to  all  white  men  for  their  safety. 

Mr.  Bronson's  kill  was  said  to  be  the  largest  and  most  com 
plete  ever  taken  out  of  the  country.  He  secured  the  third  largest 
elephant  on  record,  two  of  the  largest  water  buffalos  and  one  of 
the  largest  rhinos. 

Mr.  Bronson  was  invited  to  British  East  Africa  by  William 
Nortbrup  McMillan,  the  owner  of  Juja,  a  farm  of  some  thirty 
miles  outside  of  Nairobi,  which  is  over  three  hundred  miles  in 
land  from  Mombasa,  and  in  the  heart  of  a  good  lion  country. 
Yet  Mr.  Bronson  had  the  misfortune  never  to  see  a  lion,  although 
bis  companions  were  such  skilled  hunters  as  George  H.  Outram 
and  Will  Judd,  one  of  whom  afterward  conducted  Mr.  Roose 
velt  and  party  through  a  portion  of  their  journey. 

"In  Closed  Territory"  is  easily  Mr.  Bronson  at  his  best  as  a 
writer,  but  the  series  of  tales  included  in  "The  Red  Blooded" 
may  possibly  be  the  more  interesting,  and  "The  Vanguard" 
rivals  bis  first  book  in  holding  the  reader  spell-bound.  It  is  com 
piled  from  dramatic  incidents  in  the  life  of  Clark  B.  Stocking, 
the  Deadwood  Coach  guard,  and  Mr.  Bronson  was  able  through 
bis  inimitable  art  and  his  knowledge  and  remarkable  memory 

[iv] 


FOREWORD 

to  put  them  into  the  thoroughly  good  shape  in  which  they  appear. 
Like  everything  he  touched,  Mr.  Bronson  never  sacrificed  the 
{ruth  as  to  facts. 

He  made  two  South  American  trips.  The  first  trip,  in  1910, 
included  explorations  of  Colombia,  Ecuador,  and  portions  of 
Peru,  and  the  second  was  stretched  to  include  Trans-Andean 
country,  a  trip  down  to  and  across  Lake  Titicaca,  and  a  visit 
to  La  Paz,  the  capital  of  Bolivia.  The  second  trip  was  made 
chiefly  by  boat  along  rivers  connecting  with  the  Amazon,  thus 
accomplishing  a  great  trans-continental  journey.  In  a  way,  be 
again  anticipated  Colonel  Roosevelt,  and  although  he  made  no 
claim  to  having  discovered  The  River  of  Doubt,  he  was  able  to 
tell  just  what  it  was,  and  where  situated,  without  any  attempt  to 
deprive  the  Colonel  of  his  discovery,  such  as  was  done  by  certain 
British  explorers.  Although  Mr.  Bronson  had  numerous  ad 
ventures  and  many  interesting  experiences  on  this  trip,  which 
occupied  him  for  almost  a  year,  in  ign  and  1912  he  never 
wrote  a  chronicle  of  the  journey.  He  sent  home  to  his  friend,  Dr. 
William  T.  Hornaday,  Director  of  New  York  Zoological  Park, 
the  rarest  thing  be  could  find,  Federico,  a  spectacled  bear.  It 
was  the  first  and  only  bear  of  its  kind  known  to  have  visited 
America,  and  is  rapidly  becoming  an  extreme  rarity  in  its 
native  country.  Unfortunately,  it  died  in  1915. 

Edgar  Beech er  Bronson  was  born  in  Bradford  County,  Penn 
sylvania,  September  20,  1856,  and  on  his  mother's  side  was 
second  cousin  to  the  Rev.  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  whom  he  grew 
to  resemble  in  later  life.  His  schooling  was  much  the  same  as 
other  boys  of  the  time,  and  did  not  include  a  college.  In  fact,  he 
left  Owego,  where  bis  family  was  then  living,  and  came  to  New 
York  seeking  employment  when  not  yet  eighteen  years  of  age. 
He  found  a  place  as  a  reporter  on  the  New  York  Tribune. 

Two  great  adventures  were  indelibly  stamped  upon  the  young 
reporter's  mind;  the  one  remained  a  pleasant  memory  always, 
but  the  other  was  a  dreadful  nightmare  that  drove  him  out  of  his 
pet  employment  and  sent  him  to  the  Wild  West  to  recuperate. 
He  drew  by  lot  a  coveted  assignment  to  make  a  balloon  journey 
with  Washington  Donaldson,  a  famous  aeronaut.  The  trip  was 

[v] 


FOREWORD 

a  very  pretty  one,  being  about  the  Hudson  River,  between  New 
York  and  Poughkeepsie,  and  so  leisurely  that  it  lasted  twenty- 
six  hours.  This  remained  a  record  trip  for  some  forty  years.  He 
continued  to  take  an  interest  in  aeronautics,  and  when  the  new 
era  of  flying-machines  dawned,  there  was  no  one  kept  closer 
watch  than  he  upon  the  accomplishments  of  Chanute,  Langley, 
the  Wright  brothers,  Curtiss  and  other  American  pioneers.  He 
was  equally  well  posted  regarding  foreign  inventors  and  fliers. 
Thus  he  came  to  be  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Aero  Club,  and 
by  many  regarded  as  its  dean  of  aviators. 

The  second  adventure  was  afloat  on  the  ice  in  East  River,  in 
the  winter  or  early  spring  of  1875,  during  a  period  of  intense 
cold.  After  reporting  a  day's  session  of  the  Beech er-Tilton  trial 
in  Brooklyn,  he  had  to  get  his  copy  to  the  Tribune  office.  This 
be  could  only  do  by  crossing  on  the  ice,  which  took  him  five  hours. 
The  hardship  endured  caused  an  illness  that  prevented  his  return 
to  bis  duties  as  a  reporter. 

His  friends  on  the  Tribune  advised  a  Western  trip  to  restore 
bis  health,  and  put  him  in  touch  with  monied  people  who  were 
just  then  engaged  in  fostering  huge  cattle  ranches  in  newly  open 
ed  portions  of  the  West.  After  six  months  as  cowpuncher,  under 
a  rough  and  ranting  foreman,  the  young  man  felt  himself  quali 
fied  to  take  the  management  of  a  small  bunch  of  cattle,  and  with 
the  financial  backing  of  some  of  the  people  "back  home,"  he 
started  in  for  himself.  He  had  many  partners  as  a  ranch- 
owner,  owning  as  he  did  at  one  time  some  22,000  steers,  but  per 
haps  the  late  Abram  S.  Hewitt  was  most  deeply  interested  of 
any,  and  for  the  longest  time. 

He  began  early  making  his  mark  upon  the  West.  In  the 
Autumn  of  1877,  his  was  the  first  herd  driven  from  Laramie 
Plains  to  the  north  bank  of  the  Platte  River,  and  there  wintered. 
All  the  country  north  of  the  Platte  was  then  hostile,  except  for 
the  then  small  camp  of  gold-seekers  in  the  Black  Hills,  and  the 
stage  stations  along  the  Cheyenne  and  Sydney  stage  roads.  His 
was  the  first  herd  to  settle  in  the  Sioux  country,  so  recently  the 
scene  of  the  Custer  massacre.  But  it  was  cattle  thieves  and  not 
Indians  who  first  afflicted  the  new  ranch.  A  herd  was  stolen, 

[vi] 


FOREWORD 

and  driven  north,  as  the  novice  shrewdly  discovered  in  spite  of 
the  efforts  made  to  conceal  their  tracks.  To  catch  them,  Bronson 
took  the  Deadwood  Coach,  and  arrived  just  after  bis  bunch  bad 
been  sold  to  a  butcher.  He  compelled  the  butcher  to  a  hasty 
settlement  and  started  back  on  the  Coach.  Two  guards  accom 
panied  the  driver  of  the  stage,  Boone  May  and  Clark  B.  Stock 
ing,  both  famous,  and  the  latter  of  whom  was  made  the  hero  of 
"The  Vanguard."  Sure  enough,  the  Deadwood  Coach  was  at 
tacked  by  seven  masked  road-agents  as  it  was  nearing  the  stage- 
station  on  Old  Woman's  fork  of  the  Cheyenne  River,  but  they 
were  beaten  off,  or  killed  by  the  guards,  assisted  by  Bronson. 

After  some  fifteen  years  of  experience  as  a  ranch  owner  in  the 
Northwest,  ranging  as  far  as  Wyoming,  the  scene  of  his  opera 
tions  shifted  to  the  Southwest,  and  El  Paso  became  his  head 
quarters  where  he  engaged  in  banking.  Incidentally,  two  of  the 
records  established  by  him  about  this  time  were  saddle  journeys 
from  San  Antonio  to  El  Paso,  121  miles  in  24  hours,  and 
through  the  Bolson  de  Mapini,  200  miles  in  36  hours. 

He  had  married  at  Cheyenne,  in  1881,  Grace  Vernon  Ross, 
the  daughter  of  a  Captain  in  the  United  States  Army,  and  they 
had  three  children,  Edgar  Beecher  Bronson,  Jr.,  Clarence  King 
Bronson,  and  Grace,  now  Mrs.  L.  L.  Tweedy,  of  London,  Eng 
land.  Of  his  sons,  the  elder  took  to  the  law;  the  younger  took 
to  the  Navy,  and  shortly  after  graduating  from  Annapolis,  con 
cluded  to  follow  so  far  as  he  could  in  the  footsteps  of  his  father, 
and  entered  the  Aviation  Corps.  Possibly  he  was  influenced  by 
the  appointment  of  his  father  at  about  this  time  as  one  of  the 
Aero  Club  experts  to  report  upon  the  Burgess-Dunn  aeroplane, 
a  new  stabilizer,  from  which  great  things  were  expected,  and 
shortly  to  be  tried  out  at  Marblehead,  Mass.  Clarence  E.  King, 
for  whom  he  was  named,  was  a  truly  great  American,  whom  his 
father  came  to  know  intimately  through  John  Hay,  in  the  old 
Tribune  office.  Mr.  King  was  then  in  charge  of  the  Govern 
ment's  Geological  Surveys  along  the  Fortieth  Parallel,  and,  of 
course,  knew  everything  and  everybody  in  the  great  West.  He 
was,  until  his  untimely  death,  the  closest  and  dearest  friend  Mr. 
Bronson  had.  Lieut.  Clarence  King  Bronson  lost  his  life  in 

[vii] 


FOREWORD 

November,  1916,  while  making  experimental  flights,  dropping 
bombs  at  a  target  in  the  Potomac  River.  Mrs.  E.  B.  Bronson, 
the  mother,  died  in  March,  1912,  while  her  husband  was  in  the 
heart  of  the  South  American  wilderness. 

Mr.  Bronson  was  a  member  of  the  Manhattan,  Lotos,  Na 
tional  Arts  and  Aero  Clubs  and  the  Camp  Fire  Association  of 
America.  He  was  also  one  of  the  organizers  of  the  American 
Bison  Society,  of  which  he  was  Secretary. 

During  the  past  eight  or  nine  years,  Mr.  Bronson  was  in 
great  demand  as  an  after-dinner  speaker.  The  public  seemed 
never  to  tire  of  his  stories,  especially  the  narration  of  his  British 
East  African  adventures.  He  liked  to  tell  them  best  as  they  came 
to  him,  in  an  easy  conversational  tone,  without  any  pretense  to 
finished  oratory,  although  he  possessed  all  the  qualities  of  a  good 
orator,  including  a  good  presence.  When  asked,  he  would  con 
fide  to  you  that,  in  Africa,  just  as  Roosevelt  was  called  Bwana 
Tombo,  literally  translated,  The  Rotund  Master,  he  was  termed 
Bwana  Kmerije,  translated,  the  Master  Who  Smiles. 

Stricken  with  apoplexy  at  Delmonico's,  the  night  of  February 
$rd,  1917,  just  as  he  had  begun  an  address  to  the  Alumni  As 
sociation  of  the  German  Hospital,  whither  be  was  removed — 
The  Master  Who  Smiled  passed  away  the  next  morning.  He 
was  engaged  to  be  married  within  a  week  to  Mrs.  Harry  Torrey 
Johnson,  widow  of  the  founder  of  the  Manhattan  Electrical 
Company.  The  funeral  took  place  from  the  Church  of  the 
Transfiguration, — t(The  Little  Church  Around  the  Corner." 

WILLIAM  A.  TAYLOR. 


[  viii  ] 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

Esa's  Home  in  the  Jungle 

Ruth's  Home  Under  the  Elms    .  V 

The  Pagan's  Paradise 

Esa  Learns  Witchery  and  Witchcraft   . 

Potentialities  of  a  Human  Cipher    . 

Her  Lips  a  Scylla  and  Charybdis 

The  Value  of  Advertising      .         ••  .,> 

A  Jungle  Wooing  .  .         ; .  * "         » 

Joys  and  Terrors  of  the  Jungle     ,  . 

Dreaming  in  the  Tree  Tops 

A  Human  Bait  .  . 

Battling  With  the  Wild  Boar     . 

"Work,  Mother ;  I'll  Work"  . 

TheDatus  .  ..  ,.  ;- 

Out  of  Big  Horizons  Arise  Big  Men  . 

The  Moro  Raiders          '.»..         «,-'• 

Esa's  Fight  For  Liberty 

Alone  With  the  Dead  and  the  Vultures  . 

Vain  Appeals  to  Busau        . Y.          * 

Blinking  Slavery  and  Polygamy  ., 

Balbal  Masquerading  as  a  Temptress 

On  the  Slave  Block          .,          .  * 

Sold       .  ..  .,, 

Tony  Trigg 

Slave  to  Mother  of  Chickens 

The  Coming  of  the  'Mergans     .. 

Chino  Philosophy       .  ,: 

Better  Off  a  Moro  Than  a  'Mergan  Slave 

The  Girl  of  His  Dreams 


Wa-Tu's  Wooing  .           .           .  .         121 

Betting  Human  Flesh            .  .           .125 

A  Hunger  for  Tenderness            .  .         133 

Wa-Tu's  Blunder        .           .  .           .139 

Wa-Tu's  Honeymoon       .           .  .         145 

Naked  Bolos  in  Their  Hands  .           .151 

Datu  Linta's  Nuptials     .           .  .         157 

Wailing  That  Told  of  Calamity  .           .163 
Slain  Like  Goliath  by  a  Puny  Hand     .          167 

Saved  by  Esa's  Ivory  Teeth  .            .171 

A  Miracle  of  a  Pillow      .           .  .         177 

The  Son  of  Fire          .         -.  .           .    181 

The  Meeting  of  Esa  and  Ruth   .  .         185 

Esa  Wants  the  Son  of  Fire    .  .           .191 
Strange  Women,  These  'Mergans          .          199 

A  Pacific  Conquest     .            .  .            .   207 

Wild  Tossing  Waves  of  Love      .  .         215 

Extravagant  Altruism            .  .            .   22 1 

Love  Dies  Hard    .           v           .  .         227 

Esa's  Biggest  Magic  .           .  .         "  ..  233 

Tony  and  His  Terriers     .            .  .         239 

How  Reconcile  Conflicting  Wills  -.  .245 

Stalking  Maratuns           .           .  •-•.;-. ,      249 

Ruth's  Journey  Home           .  :'*•  .           ,  253 

Esa's  Return  to  Mt.  Apo            .  .         259 

His  Guardian  Angel   .           .  .           .   267 

The  Martyr  to  Thankless  Work  .         273 

Brooding  Over  Grim  Pictures  .            .   277 

Adrift  in  the  Mists           .            .  .         281 

The  Revelations  of  a  Fever  .  .           .   283 
Lancona's  Magic  ....         287 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT 
AND  WOMEN 


CHAPTER  I 
ESA'S  HOME  IN  THE  JUNGLE 

Notwithstanding  her  great  black  eyes  were  always  aglitter 
with  ominous  lights  fed  by  the  fires  of  fierce  passions  that  slum 
bered  through  her  infancy  and  earlier  youth,  Esa  was  a  bird- 
child — at  least  to  the  extent  that  she  was  hatched  in  a  tree 
top,  high  aloft  of  the  tangle  of  vines  and  bush  that  hid  the 
steaming  black  soil  that  fed  them. 

There,  in  airy,  softly  whispering  leafy  recesses,  her  breed  of 
jungle  folk  made  their  nests. 

There,  high  aloft,  those  ominously  glittering  eyes  first  opened, 
on  a  world  so  dim,  shadowy,  mysterious,  so  awesome  in  its 
vagueness,  that  it  must  surely  harbor  swarms  of  elfin  and  imp 
ish  shapes  just  without  one's  short  vision  range. 

There,  among  the  tree  tops,  Esa's  nest  was  by  turns  gently 
swayed  by  the  cool  breezes  that  swept  down  from  the  mist-hid 
crest  of  Mt.  Apo  and  violently  rocked  by  the  earthquakes  that 
from  time  to  time  shook  the  Island  of  Mindanao  from  center 
to  circumference. 

There,  shut  within  the  brooding  gloom  of  tropical  forest, 
shuddering  at  the  raucous  croaking  of  parrots,  the  shrilling 
voices  of  the  smaller  monkey  folk  and  the  hoarse,  terrifying 
roar  of  the  howlers,  instinctively  her  earliest  croonings  sympa 
thetically  imitated  the  low,  harmonious  notes  of  the  sweetest 
pipers  among  the  tinier  bright-feathered  folk  that  were  ever 
darting  hither  and  yon  around  her  or  nested  or  perched  her 
nearest  neighbors. 

There  and  so  Esa's  voice  became  attuned  to  the  low  and 
infinitely  melodious  pitch  that,  throughout  her  life,  at  once 
constituted  perhaps  her  most  irresistible  charm  and  always 
remained  a  weird  foil  to  the  savage  impulses  the  fascinating 
little  barbarian  never  long  managed  to  conceal. 

There,  her  youthful  imagination  was  colored  by  the  sweet 
stories  the  whispering  leaves  were  ever  confiding  to  her. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

There,  her  soul  was  further  imbued  with  adoration  of  gen 
tlest  melody  by  the  harmonies,  soft  as  a  lovelorn  maiden's 
sighs,  that  Usup's  deft  fingers  enticed  from  the  fragile  strings 
of  the  kuteehapee. 

There  and  so  Esa's  wild  Pagan  blood  absorbed  the  human 
izing  leaven  that  served  to  make  her  the  most  contradictory 
combination  of  a  gentle,  tender  simplicity  that  seemed  to 
border  on  clinging  timidity,  and  of  a  savage  indifference  to 
every  form  of  self-control  that  made  her  dangerous  as  the 
fierce  tigres. 

Primitive  as  our  common  mother,  Eve,  Esa,  now  ten  years 
old  and  nearing  marriageable  age,  was  risen  above  her  in  no 
particular  save  in  her  heritage  of  tribal  traditions  and  super 
stitions  with  which  the  countless  intervening  centuries  have 
endowed  all  wild  races  the  wide  world  round. 

But  of  these  traditions  she  knew  more  than  any  Monobo 
Pagan  of  them  all  save  only  one,  her  own  father,  Usup. 

For  Usup  performed  functions  and  wielded  authority  that 
placed  him  second  only  to  Punungan,  chief  of  the  Pugsan 
clan  of  the  Monobos. 

As  Lukus,  or  player  of  the  kuteehapee  and  tribal  bard,  he  was 
custodian  and  sole  purveyor  of  the  tribal  tradition  and  history. 

As  Ingorandy,  or  priest,  and  sole  communicant  with  the  tribe's 
supreme  god,  Dewata,  and  all  the  long  line  of  minor  deities, 
benign  and  malignant,  of  his  hierarchy,  Usup  alone  was  their 
law-giver,  he  alone  availed  to  mitigate  individual  suffering  and 
avert  tribal  calamity,  he  alone  stood  between  the  Monobos 
and  their  dread  of  the  deistic  wrath  that  the  cupidity  of  many 
generations  of  cunning  Ingorandys  had  employed  to  their 
profit. 

Indeed,  the  authority  of  Usup  was  supreme  over  that  of  Chief 
Punungan  in  all  save  when  the  warriors  of  the  tribe  picked  up 
their  blow  guns,  spears  and  bows  and  arrows  and  stole  away 
through  the  dusky  forest  to  do  battle  with  their  enemies, 
although,  by  tribal  custom,  as  their  War  Chief,  Punungan 
was  their  nominal  head. 

More,  Usup  was  a  sabio,  a  wise  man,  and  a  proper  one,  exper- 


ESA'S  HOME  IN  THE  JUNGLE 

fenced  of  the  world  and  wise  far  beyond  any  man  of  his  race. 

Many  of  his  long  roll  of  years  had  been  passed  in  captivity, 
first  as  slave  to  the  Moros  and  later  as  servant  to  Paddies, 
the  Spanish  priests. 

And  it  was  precisely  the  knowledge  so  obtained  that  in  no 
small  measure  gave  him  his  power  among  his  people,  for  it 
was  not  from  timidity  but  out  of  wisdom  that  ne  restrained 
his  clansmen  from  the  raids  of  their  civilized  neighbors  by 
which  other  over-confident  Monobo  clans  were  ever  beating 
their  wild  heads  against  stone  walls  and  inviting  pursuits  that 
always  ended  in  heavy  punishment. 


[31 


CHAPTER  II 
RUTH'S  HOME  UNDER  THE  ELMS 

A  dour  father  was  James  Snell. 

His  pride  of  his  mills  and  his  boasts  of  his  faith  and  rectitude 
were  as  great  as  should  have  been  his  shame  of  a  set  of  cruelly 
hard  and  fast  rules  that,  as  applied  to  his  mills,  taxed  muscles 
and  starved  stomachs  to  the  limit  of  endurance,  and,  as  applied 
to  his  family,  cut  heart  strings  and  sobered  faces  into  somber, 
impassive  masks. 

Rest!  Play!  He  never  did.  Why  should  others? 

Study  and  work,  work  and  study,  that  had  been  his  rule. 

Without  work,  tireless,  never  ceasing  work,  would  he  have 
managed  to  line  a  whole  mile  of  the  Merrimac's  shore  with 
smoking  chimneys  and  throbbing  boilers? 

Without  study,  constant,  patient  study,  could  it  have  hap 
pened  that  now  great  batteries  of  turbines,  turned  by  the 
Merrimac's  harnessed  flood,  had  forever  stilled  the  boilers 
and  made  annual  savings  in  fuel  bills  that  represented  a  good 
interest  on  a  tolerable  fortune? 

Study?  One  must  study  and  learn  to  better  one's  self. 

Ah !  had  he  been  privileged  to  profit  by  a  broad  education  in 
youth,  instead  of  being  forced  to  begin  work  at  his  father's 
forge  while  yet  a  lad,  now  there  would  be  two  miles  of  his  mills 
instead  of  one. 

Others!  Ah!  Each  must  do  for  himself. 

Charity !  Oh,  charity  is  the  crime  of  the  age,  as  the  greatest 
encourager  of  idleness,  and  all  idleness  is  waste  and  waste  is 
a  sin. 

For  what  were  we  given  our  talents,  pray? 

Certainly  not  that  they  should  be  squandered. 

The  hundreds  that  wearily  toiled  in  his  mills  and  spent  them 
selves  for  a  pittance  livelihood  that  his  fortune  might  be  daily 
swelled ! 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Why,  did  not  he  give  them  every  comfort  they  knew — and 
Opportunity? 

So,  once,  wearily  toiled  he. 

Was  it  his  fault  if  they  spent  their  off  hours  in  stupid  diver 
sions,  instead  of  working  and  studying  to  better  themselves, 
as  had  he? 

Inexorable  as  the  daily  turning  of  the  mills'  turbines  was  the 
family  routine. 

Occupation,  serious  occupation  of  some  sort,  filled  all  the 
waking  hours. 

Immutably  as  the  mills'  snapping  belts  and  whirring  wheels 
must  the  family  be  profitably  employed. 

Indeed,  the  only  relaxation  that  Ruth  Snell  and  her  mother 
were  permitted,  she  from  her  childhood  studies,  her  mother 
from  household  labors  that  included  all  but  its  ruder  drudg 
eries,  were  the  various  services  of  their  church — none  of  which, 
except  its  festivals,  the  devout  father  allowed  himself  or  them 
to  miss. 

No  leaven  of  levity  lightened  Ruth's  childhood.  The  stern 
home  regime  prevented  that  free,  untrammeled  expression  of 
feeling  that  alone  constitutes  an  atmosphere  in  which  the 
budding  loves  of  infancy  may  bloom  and  mature. 

What  wonder,  then,  that  a  wretched  starveling  scarcely  recog 
nizable  as  a  poor  counterfeit  of  Love  flickered  feebly  in  Ruth  s 
heart? 

It  is  through  the  period  of  tender  impressionability  of  infancy 
and  childhood  that  character  and  life  habit  are  most  highly 
colored  if  not  inalterably  formed. 

And  hence  it  had  been  practically  inevitable  that  Ruth,  her 
heart  chords  atrophied  past  capacity  to  respond  with  normal 
warmth  even  to  a  cordially  offered  friendship,  her  mind  ad 
vanced  far  beyond  those  of  most  girls  of  her  years  and  severe 
ly  trained  to  preoccupation  with  nothing  but  her  studies,  should 
finish,  in  turn,  her  boarding  school  and  her  college  as  desti 
tute  of  any  form  of  whole-hearted  love  or  even  warm  friend 
ship  as  when  she  first  left  her  father's  roof. 

Returned  to  the  grim  treadmill  of  home  life,  she  found  her 

[6] 


RUTH'S  HOME  UNDER  THE  ELMS 

mother  still  strong  and  active,  still  plodding,  wearily,  doubt 
less,  but  unflinchhig,  at  her  tasks. 

Her  suitors,  of  course,  were  numberless,  greedy  more  of  the 
mile  of  mills  of  which  she  was  sole  heir  than  captive  to  her 
beauty. 

And  yet  Ruth  had  beauty  of  a  sort,  most  notable  beauty. 

But  the  beauty  was  all  in  her  face. 

Her  figure  was  so  hopelessly  lacking  in  interesting  incident 
that  none  but  a  wholly  mad  Cubist  could  take  any  pleasure 
contemplating  it. 

While  almost  as  tall  as  a  grenadier,  Ruth  was  slender  to 
leanness  and  drearily  flat. 

Contracted  to  half  her  stature,  there  was  not  enough  of  her 
to  make  any  of  the  nameless  fascinating  curves  that  are  the 
pride  of  women  and  the  delight  of — the  rest  of  humanity. 

All  of  charm  she  owned  was  centered  in  her  face. 

In  head  and  face  Ruth  was  Feminine  Intelligence  incarnate. 

Her  forehead  was  majestic  in  height  and  breadth. 

The  great  wide-set,  violet  eyes  bespoke  more  of  contempla 
tion  than  of  dreaming. 

An  otherwise  oval  facial  angle  was  strengthened  by  a  softened 
replica  of  her  father's  pitilessly  square  jaws. 

The  lips,  while  exquisitely  curved,  were  thinner  than  would 
long  detain  a  sybarite. 

And  to  all  these  charms,  her  habit  of  preoccupied  introspec 
tion  lent  her  a  fascinating  air  of  mystery. 

None  could  pass  her  by. 

And  yet  Ruth  was  a  type  to  promise  an  intellectual  feast, 
no  more. 

But  of  all  her  suitors,  only  one  ranked  high  enough  in  fortune 
to  have  her  father's  approval — for  all  his  wares  must  bring 
the  highest  price  he  dared  hold  out  for,  even  when  it  came 
to  the  disposal  of  his  daughter's  hand. 

However,  it  was  little  she  was  really  bothered  with  suitors, 
sheltered  as  she  was  by  the  family  habit  of  self-sufficiency, 
rarely  giving  or  taking  of  entertainment,  receiving  seldom, 
encouraging  no  intimacies.  And  as  for  young  Kent,  the  eli- 

[7) 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

gible,  he  was  not  the  sort  to  interest  Ruth,  a  light-weight  in 
all  but  his  money,  who  had  been  dropped  from  Harvard  his 
sophomore  year,  not  for  any  spirited  rioting,  which,  perhaps, 
even  Ruth  might  have  forgiven,  but  for  his  stupidity,  for  de 
ficiencies  in  his  studies. 


[8] 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  PAGAN'S  PARADISE 

Nor  was  it  in  her  father  alone  that  Esa  was  fortunate. 

Her  mother,  Lancona,  was  the  Medicine  Woman  of  the  clan. 

As  daughter  of  a  long  line  of  Medicine  Women,  Lancona  was 
deeply  learned  in  the  curative  value  of  all  the  herbs  and  the 
trees  of  the  forest. 

And  while  she  would  never  have  dared  to  claim  it  any  more 
than  any  of  the  clan  could  be  found  to  admit  it,  it  was  the 
ministrations  of  Lancona  that  relieved  more  pain,  assuaged 
more  suffering  than  did  all  Usup's  earnest  invocations  of  De- 
watas  mercy,  notwithstanding  Usup  was  always  far  the  bet 
ter  paid  of  the  two  for  his  services. 

Magnificent  was  Lancona  in  her  insignia  of  medical  rank, 
from  the  Monobo  point  of  view,  her  arms  wellnigh  covered 
from  shoulder  to  wrist  with  brass  bangles,  great  ivory  studs 
in  her  ears,  heavy  brass  anklets  extending  from  her  bare  feet 
quite  up  to  the  knee,  where  they  were  met  by  a  brown  hemp 
en  skirt  gaily  interwoven  with  brilliant  feathers,  a  brightly 
beaded  chaplet  encircling  her  brow. 

And,  naturally,  it  was  from  Esa  alone,  her  favorite  daughter, 
that  Lancona  withheld  no  secrets. 

Esa  was  her  sole  companion  on  her  stealthy  avoidance  of 
prying  clan  eyes  while  questing  in  the  forest  for  supplies  of 
its  curative  treasures — or  for  any  of  the  many  malignant 
growths  she  knew  certain  to  cause  either  sickness  or  death, 
at  her  pleasure,  far  more  certainly  efficient  to  so  serve  her 
than  were  any  of  the  benign  roots  and  plants  sure  of  effecting 
cures. 

Indeed,  it  was  no  less  than  deliberately  courting  the  death 
that  soon  extinguished  them  for  any  to  seriously  cross  the  in 
terest  or  the  will  of  Usup  or  Lancona. 

Any  who  did  soon  dropped,  snuffed  out  as  suddenly  as  by 
a  lightning  stroke,  of  some  mysterious  agency  none  of  the 

[9] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

awed  tribe  folk  could  explain,  or  faded,  wasted  and  suffered 
for  weeks  before  expiring — according  to  Lancona's  judgment 
of  their  deserts. 

His  sons  all  killed  in  battle  or  captive  among  the  Moros, 
and  Esa  his  youngest  child  and  hence  his  pet,  it  was  she  whom 
Usup  elected  to  instruct;  first,  in  all  the  mysteries  of  Dewata 
and  his  attendant  deities  and  of  the  incantations  most  effec 
tive  in  service  as  their  high  priest;  second,  in  the  traditions 
and  history  of  the  tribe;  third,  perhaps,  in  more  or  less  of  the 
wisdom  he  had  absorbed  during  his  years  in  captivity  among 
the  Moros  and  Christians. 

For  among  the  Monobos  sex  was  no  more  a  bar  to  the  wield 
ing  of  the  high  authority  of  Lukus  or  Ingorandy  than  to  war 
chieftianship  itself — so  a  maid  or  woman  owned  the  knowl 
edge,  craft,  and  spirit  to  seize  it. 

Whence  it  would  not  be  unreasonable  to  assume,  perhaps, 
that  the  Monobo  women  were  the  original  suffragettes! 

Sedulously  avoiding  warfare  as  Usup  did,  dwelling  beside  the 
head  waters  of  the  Malbul  River,  a  tributary  of  the  Rio  Grande, 
on  a  low  shoulder  of  Mt.  Apo,  whose  smoking  crater  towered 
twelve  thousand  feet  above  them,  the  life  of  the  clansmen  of 
his  village  of  Pugsan  was  the  very  simplest  of  the  simple. 

There  they  dwelt  in  happiness  and  plenty,  so  long  as  left  to 
themselves,  exempt  from  attacks  that  might  drive  them  to 
flight  and  abandonment  of  their  little  fields  of  growing  food 
stuffs. 

There  they  were  unshadowed  by  the  political,  industrial, 
religious,  financial  and  social  strifes  of  what  we  love  to  boast 
as  civilization  and  the  bitter  jealousies  and  hatreds  they  en 
gender. 

There  they  were  free  of  all  those  morally  withering  and 
blighting  influences  of  the  civilization  that,  the  higher  one 
mounts  it,  the  more  bitter  his  experience  of  the  torments  of 
a  living  hell. 

With  fish  abounding  in  the  river  and  game  swarming  in  the 
forest,  fishing  and  the  chase  of  wild  boar  and  deer  cost  the 
men  as  little  in  time  and  labor  as  did  the  scratching  of  the 

[10] 


THE  PAGAN'S  PARADISE 

rich  black  soil  and  the  raising  of  the  village  needs  of  rice,  corn, 
pepper,  sweet  potatoes,  tobacco  and  bananas  cost  the  women. 

And  far  less  still  was  the  toll  in  labor  Monobos  paid  for  the 
rude  architecture  that  sheltered  them,  for  it  was  simple  as  the 
first  product  of  the  first  primitive  savage  hands  that  ever 
builded. 

In  times  of  peace  and  in  regions  of  believed  security,  rare 
enough,  unfortunately,  in  these  days,  the  ordinary  living  huts, 
floored  and  framed  of  split  bamboo  and  roofed  and  walled 
with  palm  leaves,  were  perched  on  poles  ten  feet  above  the 
ground. 

Accessible  were  their  huts  only  by  leaning  notched  poles,  up 
and  down  which  men,  women  and  children,  chickens  and  dogs, 
raced  as  readily  as  on  a  proper  staircase. 

And  with  these  pole  ladders  lifted  aloft  of  nights,  and  their 
floors  heavily  enforced  of  a  double  layer  of  bamboo  as  safe 
guard  against  the  prodding  spears  of  marauding  neighbors, 
there  on  their  perches  the  Monobos  slept  in  security  against 
night  surprise. 

But  in  these  days  few  and  very  remote  from  the  coast  were 
the  places  where  the  clansmen  could  live  in  safety. 

Thus  it  happened  that  the  Pugsan  folk  nested  their  palm  leaf 
shelters  high  aloft  in  the  branches  of  the  taller  trees,  thirty  or 
more  feet  from  the  ground,  reachable  only  by  swarming  up  the 
many  rope-like  vines  pendant  from  the  branches,  or  by  scram 
bling  along  the  snaky  curves  of  the  matapalos,  the  tree-killers 
or  parasitic  vines  that  tightly  clasp  the  mother  trunk  in  their 
death  grip. 

And  central  among  their  nests  in  the  tree  tops,  among  the 
branches  of  the  largest  trees  were  built  their  strongholds, 
heavier  of  floor,  walled  thick  about  with  bamboo,  and  hold 
ing  from  one  to  two  tons  of  stones,  the  primitive  projectiles 
that  in  pre-powder  days  were  hurled  from  the  barbicans  of 
castle  walls  upon  investing  enemies. 

And  there  in  their  leafy  nests  their  you  ng  were  born,  the  young 
they  loved  and  never  tired  of  tending  as  few  but  savage  and 
bourgeois  folk  do  the  wide  world  over. 

in] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

There  they  led  a  life  of  idyllic  peace  save  when  disturbed  by 
roaring  Moro  war  gongs  and  clashing  krises,  and  of  idyllic 
decency  as  well,  in  some  respects. 

For  Monobos  were  content  with  the  one  wife  of  their  first 
choice,  all  except  the  Chiefs,  who,  like  most  high  place-hold 
ers  of  civilization,  were  overprone  to  polygamous  indulgence. 

Indeed,  the  more  to  the  credit  of  the  Monobo  rank  and  file 
was  their  monogamy,  from  the  fact  that  five  to  fifteen  dollars 
in  any  form  of  tribal  wealth  sufficed  to  buy  a  bride  from  even 
the  most  grasping  parents! 

Likewise  the  less  the  wonder  that  the  captains  of  local  pred 
atory  industry,  the  Criminal  Rich  of  the  Mt.  App  jungles, 
fattened  more  or  less  to  surfeit  on  the  spoils  of  their  enemies 
and  the  sweating  of  their  tributary  clansmen,  drunk  of  their 
power  and  reckless  in  its  exercise,  as  are  most  high-fortuned 
folk,  whatever  their  race  or  environment,  should  contemn 
tribal  conventions  and  fill  whole  tree  tops  nigh  solid  with  con 
nubial  nests  cradling  a  variegated  assortment  of  yokemates ! 

Did  they  less,  untrue  would  they  be  to  the  most  sedulously 
practiced  if  not  the  most  honored  traditions  of  insolent  In 
dustrial  Captaincy. 


[12] 


CHAPTER  IV 
ESA  LEARNS  WITCHERY  AND  WITCHCRAFT 

Unthreatened  by  Moros  or  by  warring  tribesmen,  naught 
did  the  Monobo  fear  but  the  displeasure  of  his  gods,  of  Dewa- 
ta  and  his  familiars,  for  was  not  every  type  of  happening  with 
in  their  horizon  that  terrorized  or  might  harm  them  a  mani 
festation  of  deistic  wrath? 

And  who  but  Usup  could  save,  who  but  he  could  intercede 
for  them? 

Small  the  wonder,  then,  far  advanced  in  years  as  he  was  and 
bereft  of  his  sons,  that  many,  very,  very  many  were  the  nights 
he  devoted  to  the  training  of  Esa,  alike  in  the  witchery  of  the 
kuteehapee  and  the  witchcraft  on  which  he  throve. 

Many  were  the  soft  tropical  nights  heavy  with  the  intoxi 
cating  scents  of  the  forest,  when  the  slow  pulsing  breezes 
caress  the  cheek  like  loving  finger  tips  and  all  but  insect  voices 
and  the  shrill  screams  of  the  tigres  are  stilled,  that  Usup  with 
drew  little  Esa  to  a  nest  by  themselves,  hand-over-handing 
along  swinging  lianas  until  they  were  quite  apart  from  all 
others. 

And  once  so  come  to  a  favorite  perch,  presently  the  kutee 
hapee  would  begin  to  softly  trill,  to  trill  so  softly  it  could 
scarcely  be  heard  ten  yards  away,  a  veritable  whisper  of  har 
mony  that  often  the  droning  insect  voices  drowned. 

And  then  Usup  would  begin  a  story  of  some  of  the  wonders 
he  alone  of  all  their  clansmen  knew. 

Stories  of  wonders  and  of  terrible  deistic  agencies  that  at 
first  frightened  the  little  maid,  still  slender  almost  as  a  reed, 
but  daily  growing  deeper  of  chest  and  rounder  of  arm  of  her 
arboreal  life  and  fuller  limbed  of  darting  about  the  jungles 
and  climbing  Mt.  Apo's  steep  slopes. 

So  it  was,  still  night  by  still  night,  she  learned  that  the  thunder 
is  Dewatas  voice ;  the  lightning,  the  searching,  burning  glance 

[13] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

of  His  angry  eye;  the  tornado,  His  wrathful  breath;  the  abun 
dant  rains  and  fat  crops,  His  benignant  indulgence. 

So  she  learned  that,  from  His  throne  high  aloft  among  the 
clouds  on  Mt.  Apo,  Dewata  gives  or  takes  the  sun,  moon  and 
stars  from  His  people  at  His  will,  obscures  or  reveals  them. 

Thence,  from  His  throne,  by  the  infuriated  stamping  of  His 
mighty  foot,  He  rends  and  rocks  the  earth. 

Thence  He  sends  out  His  myriad  familiars  into  the  most  hid 
den  recesses  of  the  forests  and  the  farthest  parts  of  the  earth 
to  spy  upon  and  influence  alike  the  lives  of  men  and  beasts, 
each  of  whom  in  his  turn  must  be  appeased  to  win  their  favor 
with  their  supreme  overlord. 

Thence,  to  mothers  heedless  of  Him,  He  sends  deformed 
and  blind  offspring. 

And  chief  among  the  innumerable  deities  of  His  hierarchy  is 
Toomulkun,  an  enormous  red  bird,  never  seen  of  any  but  the 
adept  eyes  of  an  Ingorandy. 

One  day,  she,  Esa,  shall  see  him! 

And  she  shudders. 

And  then,  oh !  the  terror  of  Busau,  the  habitually  malignant 
god! 

A  most  hideous  monster  is  Busau,  that  flies  through  the  air, 
rises  wraith-like  out  of  still  pools,  emerges  from  the  solid 
trunks  of  sound  trees,  assumes  the  shape  of  a  bird  or  beast  or 
reptile  at  his  evil  will ! 

Busau? 

Why,  so  terrible  is  he  that  only  against  the  tribe's  enemies 
does  the  Ingorandy  invoke  him. 

But  sometimes,  Esa  must  remember,  he  becomes  intract 
able  and  throws  down  Monobo  houses,  usually  when  Dewa 
ta' s  angry  foot  is  stamping  and  the  earth  is  trembling. 

And  the  Limbingen,  how  they  are  literally  swarming  with 
evil  genii  while  Munowog  hovers  in  their  vicinity ! 

How  they  are  alive  with  bad  Limbings,  the  little  devils  that 
do  their  haunting  and  work  their  malevolence  in  toad  or  rep 
tilian  forms ! 

The  Limbingen,  the  haunts  of  the  Limbings,  are  always  great 

[14] 


ESA  LEARNS  WITCHERY  AND  WITCHCRAFT 

balatas,  a  type  of  rubber  tree.  Disguising  their  sinister  in 
tent,  upon  the  stately  trunks  of  these  balatas  tiny  tendrils  of 
the  matapalo  stealthily  steal  and  about  them  twine,  as  if  in 
loving  embrace. 

But  there  the  matapalos  cling  and  climb  and  GROW,  thick 
ening  and  extending  themselves,  ever  pressing  harder,  gnaw 
ing  deeper,  until  bark  and  cambium  are  withered  and  the 
very  sap  cells  are  compressed  past  capacity  to  fulfil  their  func 
tions. 

Destiny,  only  destiny  itself  pursues  and  finishes  the  execu 
tion  of  its  decrees  as  implacably  as  the  matapalo,  indifferent 
to  time,  slowly,  patiently,  remorselessly  and  inevitably  de 
stroys  all  tree  life  it  once  seizes  upon. 

Soon  boring  insects  do  the  rest,  gut  all  dead  wood  from  within 
the  tangle  of  massive  buttressing  vines — and  lo!  the  haunts 
the  Limbings  love  are  ready  for  tenancy,  great  dusky  cavities, 
broad  and  high  as  were  the  vanished  trunks,  each  spacious 
for  untold  thousands  of  the  little  demons. 

And  there  they  stay  holding  such  wicked  carnival  and  thence 
from  them  issue  such  terrible  spells  that  any  Monobo  would 
die  before  he  would  venture  near  a  Limbingen  in  the  night. 

Invincible  are  the  Limbings  even  against  the  shrewdest  in 
cantations  of  the  most  learned  Ingorandy,  so  long  as  Muno- 
wog  is  near. 

Munowog? 

Oh,  he  is  a  huge  bird,  big  as  a  house  and  black  as  a  burnt 
stick. 

Eggs? 

Why  Munowog  lays  black  eggs  big  as  a  boar's  body  with  the 
head  off,  and  hatches  them  by  burying  them  in  the  sand  of 
river  bars  exposed  to  the  sun. 

Round  about  he  awkwardly  trots,  like  a  lame  man,  and  sel 
dom  does  he  fly. 

But  once  the  Ingorandy  sees  Munowog  awing,  and  knows  the 
good  fairies  will  immediately  chase  away  the  little  demons 
and  take  their  places  in  the  Limbingen,  he  runs  to  bring  the 
clansmen  for  the  pleasure  and  profit  of  a  sight  of  the  fairies. 


THE  LOVE'OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

But  run  fast  as  the  wind  though  he  may,  never  have  any  ar 
rived  before  a  Limbingen  in  time  to  glimpse  a  fairy. 

Still,  what  does  it  matter? 

For,  of  course,  the  Ingorandy  has  seen  them  and  is  ever  ready 
to  tell  of  them  and  to  convey  the  largess  of  merriment,  good 
cheer,  fat  crops,  and  sound  health  the  fairies  bring  for  all — at 
so  much  a  tell  and  a  convey. 

And  how  acutely  must  the  Ingorandy  regret  that  none  of  his 
people  arrive  in  time  to  hear  the  sweet  music  and  happy  songs 
and  smell  the  masses  of  fragrant  flowers  with  which  the  fairies 
brighten  the  sombre  haunts  of  which  they  have  dispossessed 
the  bad  Limbings! 

That,  especially,  Esa  will  do  well  to  remember. 


CHAPTER  V 
POTENTIALITIES  OF  A  HUMAN  CIPHER 

And  yet,  insignificant  human  cipher  though  he  was,  it  was 
precisely  young  Kent  who,  in  effect,  determined  Ruth  SnelPs 
career  and  drove  her  into  the  perils  of  exile  remote  from  her 
home  and  friends. 

Thus  often  do  the  cheapest  pawns  on  the  chessboard  of  life 
temporarily  exercise  terrible  potentialities. 

Over  young  Kent,  Ruth  Snell  and  her  father  clashed — for 
the  first  and  last  time. 

Not  in  the  white  heat  of  anger  that  often  fuses  into  remorse 
and  regret  did  their  wills  clash,  but  in  disagreement  so  bitter 
ly  cold  that  the  slender  bond  that  subsisted  between  them 
parted  like  the  brittle  straw  it  was. 

Told  she  must  receive  young  Kent,  win  his  proposal  and 
marry  him,  Ruth  reproachfully  protested. 

"But,  father,  what  would  you  say  if  you  had  such  a  brain 
less  idler  of  an  incompetent  for  a  son?" 

Quick  came  the  remorseless  answer: 

"Ha!  as  son,  I'd  disown  him,  or  drive  him  in  overalls  among 
the  mill  hands,  if  anything  could  be  found  the  idiot  could  do." 

"And  yet  you  would  have  me  marry  him,  a  creature  you'd 
hold  unfit  to  own  as  a  son,  father?" 

"Why,  yes,  Ruth,  I'm  thinking  he'll  do  you  quite  well  enough 
as  a  husband.  His  father  did  a  pretty  good  job  of  work,  good 
enough  to  warrant  overlooking  his  son's  deficiencies,  it  strikes 
me,  when  we  come  to  consider  the  millions  he  has  stowed 
away.  Then  you  must  admit  young  Kent  has  no  vices — is 
harmless  as  your  grandma's  old  gander." 

"But  to  this  day,  father,  you  know  you  will  tolerate  no  idle 
ness  in  mother  or  me,"  adding  softly,  scarcely  audibly,  after 
a  deep  sigh,  "and  sometimes  it  seems  you  even  begrudge  us 
necessary  rest." 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"Certainly,  Ruth,  it's  everyone's  duty  to  keep  busy.  Do  7 
rest? 

"And  as  for  him"  he  added  before  Ruth  could  reply,  after  a 
mirthless  chuckle  which  was  the  nearest  approach  to  laugh 
ter  he  ever  indulged,  "as  for  him,  Ruth,  you  may  believe  me 
I  have  some  very  definite  plans  for  forcing  him  to  my  ways  of 
thought  and  work — once  you've  hooked  him  and  old  Kent  is 
buried. 

"The  old  man  is  breaking  fast.  Soon  he'll  be  down,  but  not 
before  I'm  named  in  the  trusteeship  of  the  estate  with  power 
to  tie  knots  in  that  boy  when  I  like — and  his  short-comings 
prompt  me  to  tie  'em.  Which  will  be  about  every  day  until  I 
get  him  lined  out  as  I  want  him. 

"It  will  be  Industry  spelled  in  big  letters  for  him,  and  no  sort 
of  nonsense  in  the  use  of  his  money." 

"Ah!  that's  it!"  Ruth  coldly  remarked,  "I  had  begun  to  sus 
pect  as  much.  Thank  you  for  making  it  quite  plain. 

"You  hold  me  as  a  chattel,  no  more  or  less,  as  the  chattel 
daughters  have  been  to  savage  fathers  the  world  over  since 
the  Stone  Age,  to  be  bartered  to  the  highest  bidder  precisely 
as  they  auction  the  slaves  and  beasts  captured  on  their  bloody 
raids  of  their  neighbors ! 

"I'm  just  a  human  commodity  that  has  come  cheap,  but  to 
be  sold  as  dear  as  parental  cunning  can  contrive,  as  are  the 
naked,  mindless  maids  of  the  deserts  and  the  forests ! 

"Well,  I  admit  I  should  be  thankful  you  hold  me  as  high  as 
you  do,  but  I  confess  to  a  lack  of  pride  in  the  fact  that  my 
father  can  manage  to  get  his  own  consent  to  lower  himself  to 
the  level  of  those  gibbering  caricatures  of  Christian  manhood 
who  were  diggers  of  wild  roots  and  gnawers  of  the  bones  of 
their  slain  enemies." 

"You'd  make  a  bad  mistake,  young  woman,  to  ever  again 
talk  to  me  like  that,"  her  father  answered  in  the  slow,  meas 
ured,  calculating  tones  habitual  to  him,  "you  put  the  situa 
tion,  well,  almost  brutally,  I  should  say. 

"Barter  you?  Nothing  of  the  sort.  It's  just  business,  pru 
dence — the  wisdom  come  of  a  lifetime  of  successful  business 


POTENTIALITIES  OF  A  HUMAN  CIPHER 

dealing.  I've  not  been  losing  much  as  I've  gone  along,  have 
I?" 

"No,  you  certainly  have  not,"  Ruth  replied,  but  adding 
under  her  breath,  "unless  it's  your  self-respect,  if  you  ever 
had  any."  And  then,  presently,  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
she  made  a  last  effort  to  save  the  straw  that  bound  them  to 
gether,  when  she  continued: 

"But,  father  dear,  don't  you  realize  it's  my  life  you  are  deal 
ing  with,  not  the  product  of  your  mills,  my  life  and  happi 
ness? 

"Married,  one  has  bestowed  one's  self,  'For  better,  for 
worse,'  the  service  has  it.  Must  not  her  marriage  inevitably 
prove  for  worse  for  any  woman,  no  matter  what  the  station 
from  which  she  has  sprung,  who  mates  with  such  a  human 
zero  as  young  Kent? 

"Unless,  to  be  sure,  she  be  of  that  wickedest  type  of  all 
women  who  find  their  only  occupation  and  happiness  in  the 
wanton  flaunting  of  their  riches  for  the  joy  of  the  envy  they 
inspire. 

"There  are  hearts  that  love  abides  in,  we  are  told,  although 
it's  little  of  that  I'm  knowing;  but  surely  in  every  marriage 
where  love  is  absent  the  wife  must  be  possessed  with  either 
pride  or  shame ;  with  pride  in  the  man  possessed  or  with  shame  of 
her  bondage  to  him. 

"Do  you  realize  that  your  insistence  condemns  me  to  such 
shame,  irretrievably;  effaces  hope  of  ever  knowing  pride?" 

"Pride!  Pride,  girl?"  the  old  mill  man  replied,  "What  can 
you  buy  with  pride? 

"No  pride  was  ever  converted  into  bankable  funds  or  other 
tangible  assets. 

"Pride,  girl?  Why,  Pride  is  synonymous  of  Failure. 

"Pride  it  is  that  holds  men  back  from  the  little  detours  from 
the  middle  of  the  commercial  road  that  make  money — and 
he  makes  biggest  money  whose  detours  are  widest,  so  he's 
not  stupid  enough  to  get  entangled  with  the  law. 

"Pride  has  no  place  in  business. 

[19] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"Forget  it,  girl — and  I'll  make  you  the  richest  woman  in  the 
State.  I'll  tie  up  the  Kent  fortune  so  tight  none  of  the  courts 
will  manage  to  free  it,  and  I'll  train  you  how  to  make  your 
wealth  as  irresistibly  attractive  of  more  wealth  as  is  the  flow 
of  all  the  earth's  floods  to  the  sea." 


[20] 


CHAPTER  VI 
HER  LIPS  A  SCYLLA  AND  CHARYBDIS 

It  was  the  mornings,  her  free  mornings,  that  Esa  dearly  loved. 

Scarcely  was  the  moon  paled  to  silver,  the  droning  insect 
chorus  hushed,  the  fugitive  lamps  of  the  luciernagas,  those 
giant  fireflies  of  the  tropics,  faded,  and  dawn  brightening  her 
nook  of  the  world,  than  the  bird-child  was  transformed  to  a 
nymph  no  lover  of  beauty  could  deny  his  worship. 

Up  betimes,  rival  to  the  earliest  risers  of  the  feathered  folk 
among  whom  she  dwelt,  up  out  of  her  nest  she  rose,  carolling 
gaily  as  the  sweetest  singers  of  them  all,  and  down  a  bejuco 
slid  to  the  ground. 

Then  into  the  Malbul's  cool  waters  she  plunged,  gliding  hith 
er  and  yon  over  its  still  pools  light  as  a  feather  wafted  by  va 
grant  breezes,  her  slender  brown  body  supple  and  sinuous  as 
the  python's,  her  slow  sweeping  arms  gleaming  bright  as  his 
own  silver-bronze  scales,  her  exquisitely  arched  but  dan 
gerously  full  lips  a  veritable  Scylla  and  Charybdis  no  man 
careless  of  his  helm  could  safely  cruise  near. 

And  finished  her  dip  in  the  waters  and  standing  preening 
herself  on  Malbul's  white  sands,  actually  ablaze  of  the  ardent 
glances  the  eager  sun  had  sprung  aloft  of  the  tree  tops  to  fix 
upon  her,  our  bronze  nymph  was  transmuted  to  gold. 

Withdrawing  within  the  shadow  of  the  thick  ranks  of  cana 
brava  that  sentineled  her  favorite  pool,  tall  ranks  whose  wav 
ing  tops  made  them  look  like  the  bravely  plumed  crests  of  a 
squadron  of  gallant  hussars,  attendant  upon  their  youthful 
queen,  awaiting  her  behests,  there  secluded  from  the  embar 
rassment  of  the  all  too  burning  glances  of  the  sun,  slowly  the 
dull  red  roses  faded  from  her  cheeks  until  they  were  dim  and 
shadowy  as  the  ardors  of  banked  coals,  gradually  the  fast 
heaving  breasts  lessened  their  pulsing. 

Presently  the  cana  brava  was  gently  parted  and  out  thrust  a 
lad's  face,  and  a  low  voice  called,  "It's  me,  Esa;  I'm  here." 

[21] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Whirling  in  astonishment,  and  with  just  the  color  of  a  frown 
of  resentment  at  the  intrusion,  she  answered,  "Ah!  Tugan. 
But  who  gave  you  permission  to  come?'* 

"My — well,  my  wish  to  see  you.  May  I  approach?" 

"No,  you  cannot.  You  know  I  send  for  those  I  want,"  came 
the  imperious  answer,  bred  partly  of  a  sense  of  rapidly  mount 
ing  superiority  over  her  clansmen  and  partly  of  the  wilful  ways 
even  forest  maids  early  learn  their  charms  permit  them  to  in 
dulge. 

And  then,  before  the  smile  was  wholly  gone  from  Tugan's 
face,  the  bird-child's  curiosity  stirred  and  she  asked,  "But 
what  is  that  you  have  in  your  hand?" 

"Something  I  brought  for  you,"  Tugan  pouted;  "a  guaca- 
mayo  I  just  shot;  the  biggest,  finest  feathered  bird  you  ever 
saw — feathers  to  make  you  the  richest  tunic  in  Pugsan,"  and 
he  held  aloft  a  great  parrot  wearing  such  a  wealth  of  brilliant- 
hued  feathers  as  no  maid  could  fail  to  covet.  "And — and 
here's  your  dinner,"  he  added,  holding  out  a  fat  pava,  lighter 
of  weight  and  black  of  wing  and  breast,  but  sweet  and  tender 
of  meat  as  the  most  royally  bred  of  all  the  turkey  tribe. 

"Ah,  good  Tugan,  you  may  approach,"  she  sweetly  smiled 
— proving  Eve's  daughters  the  wide  world  round  differ  little, 
whatever  their  estate.  Indeed,  if  it  is  true,  as  a  more  or  less 
wise  cynic  has  held,  that  "If  you  would  win  women" — civil 
ized  women — "ptav  diamonds,"  surely  you  may  no  more  quick 
ly  win  a  wild  forest  maid  than  with  bright  feathers. 

Leaping  at  her  will,  out  to  her  across  the  white  sands  bounded 
Tugan,  a  slender  but  powerful  lad,  perhaps  only  four  years 
older,  but  towering  head  and  shoulders  above  her,  dangling 
the  prizes  that  had  won  him  favor  in  one  hand  and  grasping 
the  long  slim  tube  of  his  blow  gun  in  the  other. 

Son  of  Chief  Punungan,  and  eldest  son  at  that,  Tugan  was 
not  only  descended  from  a  long  line  of  the  war  chiefs  of  his 
clan,  but  as  the  eldest  of  his  brothers,  one  day  would  be  wear 
ing  his  father's  flaming  war  plumes  and  leading  stealthy  raids 
of  his  clansmen  against  their  enemies. 

The  boldest  and  handsomest  of  all  the  youths  of  Pugsan, 

[22] 


HER  LIPS  A  SCYLLA  AND  CHARYBDIS 

what  wonder  that  already  for  two  years  Tugan  had  been  thrall 
to  Esa,  seldom  farther  from  her  little  heels  than  behind  him 
trotted  the  well-trained  hunting  dog  that  unerringly  trailed 
the  wounded  deer  flying  of  a  careless  arrow-shot  or  nipped 
and  turned  the  charge  of  maddened  wild  boar! 

Likewise,  what  wonder  that  his  unflagging  devotion  should 
touch  her  heart  strings  and  set  them  ringing  tender  cadences, 
or  that  in  the  past  she  had  joyfully  drunk  his  caressing  words 
and  encouraged  his  eager  hope  that  one  day  they  would  be 
mated !  Why  not,  indeed,  when  Tugan  alone  of  all  the  clan 
might  aspire  to  win  the  hand  of  the  favorite  daughter  of  its 
Luhus  and  Ingorandy? 

But  lately  lowering  clouds  had  been  obscuring  Tugan's  best 
loved  visions. 

The  little  maid  was  changing. 

Often  she  would  not  answer  him. 

Sometimes  she  stood  as  if  trying  to  look  deep  into  the  crowd 
ing  jungle,  silent,  seemingly  even  ignorant  of  his  presence, 
deaf  to  his  voice. 

MoreoftenstiII,anewnoteof  authority  had comeintohertones 
that  was  strange  indeed  for  a  Monobo  maid,  even  though  she 
be  the  daughter  of  the  mightiest  of  his  clan,  and  she  ordered 
him  and  others  about  as  only  his  father,  Punungan,  talked 
to  his  tribesmen  when  leading  them  to  war. 

What  did  it  mean? 

Surely  she  was  not  offended  with  him,  for  at  other  times  she 
was  kind  to  him  as  ever,  and  sometimes  still  permitted  him 
to  follow  her  through  the  forest  as  of  old. 

Tugan  was  puzzled,  for  in  nothing  was  he  mentally  superior 
to  other  Monobo  boys  of  his  age,  save  in  the  greater  pains  his 
father,  the  chief,  had  taken  to  train  him  in  the  deft  use  of  his 
weapons  and  in  forest  craft. 

And  if  herself  to  any  extent  sensible  of  such  change,  doubt 
less  she  could  no  more  have  clearly  explained  it  than  could  he. 

Wholly  ignorant  he  of  the  mysteries  and  wonders  with  which 
Usup  had  been  awakening  and  absorbing  her  young  mind, 
and  of  the  mental  uplift,  the  pride  and  sub-conscious  sense  of 

[23] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

predominance  over  her  fellows  her  rapidly  growing  knowledge 
was  stirring  in  her,  come  of  a  dawning  realization  that  one  day 
shortly  she  would  be  playing  upon  their  fears  and  encouraging 
their  hopes  as  now  did  Usup,  she  herself  could  probably  have 
told  no  more  than  that  she  had  the  right  to  unbridle  her  will. 


[24] 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  VALUE  OF  ADVERTISING 

"Oh,  I  see,  father,"  Ruth  answered,  when  her  father  con 
tinued  insisting  on  her  marriage  to  young  Kent,  "of  course, 
your  great  experience  makes  anything  you  say  deserving  of 
the  highest  consideration. 

"But  permit  me  to  offer  a  suggestion  you  may,  upon  reflec 
tion,  recognize  as  valuable. 

"It  is  this:  Why  not  turn  me  over  to  the  General  Manager 
of  your  Sales  Department?'* 

"To  my  Sales  Manager?  What  do  you  mean,  Ruth?  Are  you 
crazy?"' 

"I  mean  that  for  once  you  are  on  the  verge  of  a  serious  busi 
ness  blunder  that  is  likely  to  cause  you  heavy  loss." 

"Make  a  loss!  I?"  he  snorted;  "when  I  make  a  loss,  about 
everybody  in  my  line  will  first  be  broke!" 

"That's  just  the  trouble,"  Ruth  retorted;  "you  are  now  ven 
turing  out  of  your  line  of  business,  at  least  your  usual  line  of 
business,  although  you  do  not  seem  to  realize  it." 

"Well,  I  guess  you  must  be  crazy,"  he  snapped,  with  a  very 
near  approach  to  a  loss  of  his  temper. 

"I  be  caught  venturing  outside  my  line  of  business?  Huh! 
not  in  a  million  years. 

"That's  where  I've  got  'em;  know  my  line  a  little  better  than 
the  rest  do  and  stick  tight  to  it — put  in  more  time  applying 
what  I  know  than  they  do,  put  in  all  my  time  at  it,  while  most  of 
'em  go  scatter-gunning  into  strange  territory.  Do  you  sup 
pose  you  could  explain  what  you  imagine  you  mean?" 

"Easily,  father.  The  products  of  your  mills  sell  throughout 
the  land,  do  they  not?" 

"Throughout  the  land?  Why,  girl,  they're  in  every  market 
of  the  world." 

"Quite  so;  I  fancied  as  much.  And  you  have  an  elaborate 
sales  organization  finetoothcombing  all  the  markets  of  the 

[25] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

world  for  the  lines  of  easiest  resistance,  for  the  points  where 
your  wares  will  bring  you  the  largest  profits,  have  you  not?" 

"Elaborate?  Why,  it's  ornate,  girl;  I  guess  my  Sales  Depart 
ment  don't  miss  much,"  he  chuckled;  "the  other  fellows  are 
welcome  to  anything  we  overlook." 

"Splendid!  So  much  the  better.  And  that  sales  organization 
you  really  regard  as  among  the  best,  capable  of  getting  the 
highest  price  your  goods  could  possibly  be  made  to  fetch?" 

"Among  the  best?  Why,  girl,  it's  the  best.  Wouldn't  surprise 
me  if  my  Sales  Manager  should  contrive  to  trade  a  shipload 
of  ice  to  the  Esquimaux  for  a  cargo  of  ivory  and  peltries." 

"Excellent.  Then  I  take  it  you  consider  he  might  be  effective 
with,  say,  the  Sultan  of  Turkey,  or  the  Shah  of  Persia,  with 
English  dukes  or  perhaps  with  the  fabulously  rich  Hindu 
princes?" 

"Would  he?  Well,  he'd  about  trade  'em  out  of  their  crowns!" 
And  then,  presently,  his  hawk  eyes  narrowed  and  glaring,  the 
gnarled  fingers  nervously  combing  the  thin  gray  beard,  he 
added, '  'Good  idea !  Brilliant,  by  Sam  Hill.  Wonder  what  we've 
got  he  might  start  advertising  and  convincing  'em  they  need 
in  their  business?" 

"But,  sir,  you  have  something  they  need,  or  might  be  con 
vinced  they  want — in  their  business." 

"I  have!"  he  exploded,  too  breathless  to  say  more. 

"You  assuredly  have,  sir,  and  you  are  about  to  sacrifice  per 
haps  the  greatest  opportunity  of  your  life,  so  far  as  I  have 
heard  anything  of  your  plans. 

"If  you  are  really  serious  and  think  you  could  reach  them  by 
advertising,  you  might  begin  tomorrow.  It's  not  yet  too  late, 
but  soon  it  will  be  if  you  don't  open  your  eyes  and  stir  your 
self." 

"Reach  them !  By  advertising !  Why,  by  advertising  I'd  reach 
all  but  the  disembodied  spirits,  and,"  with  a  grim  chuckle, 
"I'm  not  sure  we  could  not  run  even  them  a  close  race  with 
postered  aeroplanes. 

"Advertising!  It's  the  very  life-blood  of  business,  your  brains 
the  heart  pump  that  energizes  its  flow  through  every  artery 

[26] 


THE  VALUE  OF  ADVERTISING 

and  vein  of  the  consuming  world,  the  stronger  the  pump  the 
richer  the  flow. 

"Cut  your  broadcast  advertising,  and  rapidly  your  markets 
narrow;  stop  it,  and  soon  you'll  find  your  customers  limited 
to  your  immediate  neighbors. 

"Potentates,  princes,  dukes — well,  I'd  cut  out  the  English 
dukes,  but  there  should  be  good  gunning  among  the  Birming 
ham  ironmasters  and  Manchester  cotton  spinners;  they're 
the  boys  able  to  buy. 

"But  your  Orientals  appeal  to  me.  Reach  'em!  Why,  I'd  tag 
the  tails  of  their  sacred  elephants,  be-poster  their  palaces  and 
temples,  slip  beautiful  lithograph  inserts  among  the  leaves  of 
their  pet  heathen  scriptures,  tattoo  the  ladies  of  their  harems ! 

"Reach  them !  Just  show  me  the  goods,  and  then  watch  me!" 

"But,  sir,  I'm  telling  you  that  you  have  the  goods — goods 
that  will  lend  themselves,  tolerably  well,  to  lithographic  illus 
tration,  although  I  must  say  I'd  be  sorry  to  see  them  exploited 
on  elephant  tails  or  the  naked  bodies  of  harem  favorites." 

"Well,  maybe  you  can  manage  to  tell  me  what  in  Sam  Hill 
they  are.  I'll— "' 

"One  moment,  sir;  I  understood  you  to  admit  your  business, 
and  hence  your  profits,  would  dwindle  to  insignificance  if,  by 
dropping  advertising,  you  limited  your  sales  propaganda  to 
your  neighbors.  Am  I  correct?" 

"Certainly  you  are;  any  fool  could  see  that  out  of  half  an  eye." 

"And  I  may  also  assume  you  often  if  not  always  find  the 
best  buyers  for  your  wares  by  ranging  far  from  our  immedi 
ate  neighborhood?" 

"Sure  as  you're  born;  but  where  are  the  goods?  Tell  me,  girl, 
where  are  the  goods?" 

For  whole  minutes  Ruth  stood  eyeing  coldly  the  hard,  greedy 
old  face,  and  then  she  almost  whispered, 

"/  am  the  goods,  sir!  Have  you  ever  offered  me  to  any  local 
buyers?  Am  I  not  worth  advertising?  Turn  me  over  to  your 
Sales  Manager,  and  see  if  he  does  not  find  a  customer  at  fig 
ures  that  will  make  you  ashamed  of  the  buyer  you  want  to 
turn  me  over  to." 

[27] 


CHAPTER  VIII 
A  JUNGLE  WOOING 

From  Tugan  Esa  took  the  birds  he  had  brought  her  and  toy 
ed  smilingly  with  the  brilliant  plumage  of  the  guacamayo, 
pleased  as  any  duchess  with  some  wonderful  new  gown  stuff 
proposed  by  Paquin,  until  presently,  in  tone  of  gentle  resent 
ment,  Tugan  said : 

"And  there's  the  pava,  too,  Esa;  you  have  not  noticed  it. 
My,  but  it's  tender.  Feel  of  its  breast,  plump  and  round  as — 
plump  as  yours,  little  Esa." 

"Yes,  yes,  Tugan,"  she  answered,  "I've  felt  it  and  am  sure  I 
never  saw  a  finer.  It's  a  good  Tugan  and  a  cunning  hunter!" 

At  which  the  boy's  dusky  cheeks  reddened  with  pride  and 
pleasure  while  he  deftly  twirled  the  long  tube  of  his  blow  gun. 

Then  suddenly  his  face  fell  somber  as  he  replied : 

"So  you  tell  me,  and  how  I  love  to  hear  you  say  it;  but  for  a 
long  time,  Esa,  you  have  not  acted  like  so  you  really  thought. 
Has  Tugan  displeased  you  in  any  way?" 

"Why,  no,  boy;  what  a  silly  thing  of  you  to  say.  You're  al 
ways  doing  for  me,  always  hunting  chance  to  do  more.  What 
is  it  you  mean?" 

"Oh,  Esa,  I  hardly  know  myself,  only,  well,  you  talk  to  me 
like  father  speaks  to  his  warriors,  and  often  when  I  am  in 
hand  reach  of  you,  you  don't  seem  to  know  that  I  am  near, 
just  like  I  was  dead  or  high  up  on  Mt.  Apo." 

"But  what  a  foolish  boy !  Why,  you  must  know  I  like  you  bet 
ter  than  anyone,  unless,  maybe  Usup.  Only  so  many  things 
are  ringing  in  my  head;  so  many,  many  that  they  are  more 
than  all  the  leaves  that  clothe  Mt.  Apo.  Better  than  any 
other  I  like  you  near  me,  but  somehow,  I  don't  know  why, 
I've  no  more  wants  than  those  I've  willed  I  shall  have." 

"But,  little  Esa,"  and  he  appealingly  held  out  his  hands, 
"aren't  you  going  to  will  to  want  me  like  you  used  to,  always 

[29] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

near  you?  Won't  you  will  to  let  me  ask  you  of  Usup,  one  of 
these  days  when  you  are  a  little  bigger?" 

For  some  time  the  maid  stood  still  as  a  statue,  her  great  al 
mond  eyes  wide  and  expressionless  of  deep  introspection. 

At  length,  turning  on  Tugan  a  puzzling  but  kindly  face,  she 
answered : 

"I  just  don't  know,  boy.  I've  got  to  wait  to  know  myself. 
Maybe  Usup — maybe  no  one  may  ask  him  how  much  he  holds 
Esa  worth.' 

"But,  tell  me,  lorita  mia,"  he  gently  urged,  "why  is  it  so? 
why  so  often  do  the  shadows  chase  the  smiles  from  your  face; 
why  do  you  pass  so  many  mornings  wandering  alone,  why  all 
your  afternoons  alone  aloft  with  LJsup;  why  do  you  not  know 
I  am  beside  you  when  your  eyes  get  big  and  still  like  those  of 
one  just  killed?  Why,  oh,  tell  me  why,  little  Esa,  are  these 
strange  things,  so  far  unlike  your  sisters  of  Pugsan?" 

On  him  her  great  eyes  fixed,  and  so  they  stayed  until  to  him 
it  seemed  they  were  looking  through  and  past  him  into  the  re 
motest  depths  of  the  forest — where  surely  they  must  be  see 
ing  things  weird  and  terrible  Tugan  knows  nothing  of,  for 
they  harden  and  glare  in  such  an  uncanny  way  that  he  shud 
ders,  shrinks  back  and  stammers: 

"Never  mind,  Esa,  I — I  don't  think  I  quite  want  to  know." 

Rousing  slowly  at  sound  of  his  voice,  as  from  a  heavy  sleep, 
and  wholly  ignoring  his  question,  she  ordered  sharply : 

* 'Leave  these  birds  with  Lancona  and  fetch  my  blow  gun — 
and  today  you  may  follow  me." 

And  when  he  returned  a  few  minutes  later,  fetching  his  own 
bow,  quiver  and  spear  as  well  as  Esa's  weapon,  it  was  to  find 
her  turned,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  mysterious  depths  of  the 
pool,  her  little  toes  nervously  questing  in  the  sand — probably 
wondering  whether  Busau  was  haunting  the  pool's  waters  or 
any  of  Munowog's  big  black  eggs  were  hatching  thereabouts. 

Taking  from  Tugan  her  blow  gun  and  its  sheaf  of  tiny  ar 
rows,  slender  and  sharp  as  pins  and  scarce  ten  inches  long, 
each  tufted  with  a  wisp  of  the  snowy  fiber  that  annually 
whitens  the  heads  of  the  cotton  trees,  and  stained  of  point  to 

[30] 


A  JUNGLE  WOOING 

an  ominous  brown  by  the  poison  in  which  they  have  been  dip 
ped,  Esa  instantly  was  transformed  back  to  the  child  she  was, 
bounding  away  into  the  jungle  at  a  pace  none  but  the  wild 
folk  bred  in  it  can  make. 

Ducking  low  arching  bush,  writhing  through  tangles  of  be- 
jucos  that  are  literally  spider  webs  for  white  feet,  now  sinking 
deep  in  humid  masses  of  rotting  vegetation  and  then  leaping 
fallen  forest  monarchs  or  swarming  over  those  too  high  to 
leap,  the  two  lithe  brown  bodies  flashed  through  depths  dusky 
as  the  sea's  floor,  swift  as  the  shadows  of  darting  sharks,  Esa 
leading,  Tugan  hard  on  her  heels,  silent  both,  despite  their 
rapid  pace,  as  the  birds  that  darted  away  at  their  approach. 


[31] 


CHAPTER  IX 
JOYS  AND  TERRORS  OF  THE  JUNGLE 

Esa  was  ever  leading. 

On  and  on  she  raced,  straight  as  the  close-twilled  forest 
growths  permitted  save  where  prudence  learned  of  Usup  made 
her  give  wide  elbow  room  to  the  Lim&ingen,  for  in  all  the  vast 
region  occupied  by  the  hill  tribes  there  are  no  roads  or  even 
footpaths  of  any  description — paths  would  serve  all  too  well 
to  guide  and  expedite  the  attacks  of  enemies. 

On  and  on,  deer  and  pigs  scurrying  away  at  her  approach, 
wise  of  untold  generations  of  experience  of  the  nastily  prick 
ing  things  with  which  two-legged  folk  are  ever  chasing  them 
to  their  deaths,  on  till  presently  she  came  bang!  on  a  great 
twenty-foot  python,  extended  asleep  among  the  leaves — 
stepped  on  him,  but  leaped  far  away  before  he  was  fairly  coil 
ed  for  reprisal. 

But  no  more  was  the  hideous  head  raised,  long  forked  tongue 
angrily  darting,  than  Tugan's  spear  had  transfixed  its  thick 
body  and  a  poisoned  dart  from  Esa's  blow  gun  pierced  its 
throat. 

And  there,  for  the  few  moments  the  deadly  poison  took  to 
finish  its  work,  our  two  little  wild  ones  stood  screaming  in  de 
light  of  their  prowess,  watching  the  huge  tortured  coils  mow 
ing  bush  and  sweeping  big  saplings  to  slivers  until  heart  ac 
tion  stopped  and  the  hateful  monster  lay  still. 

On  and  on,  now  racing  up  steep  slopes  at  little  abated  pace, 
up  slopes  that  gave  Tugan  his  first  inkling  of  her  purpose — 
to  reach  a  certain  lofty  spur  of  Mt.  Apo,  on  whose  crest  she 
had  recently  been  spending  many  mornings. 

Up  they  climbed  through  shadowy  labyrinths  of  the  most 
gigantic  vegetation  the  world  holds. 

Thick  about  them  were  flowers  beautiful  beyond  the  dreams 
of  the  sensuous  weavers  of  Bacchanalian  wreaths. 

Kissed  were  their  hot  cheeks  by  humid  airs  heavy  with  strange 

[33] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

exotic  fragrances,  at  once  so  stimulating  and  intoxicating 
that  they  would  charm  the  breath  of  life  into  the  withering 
shell  of  a  Theban  mummy. 

Around  them  towered  columns  of  Nature's  temples,  whose 
beauty  of  proportion  suggested  the  majestic  dignity  of  an 
cient  Greek  architecture. 

Down  about  them  hung  low,  drooping  masses  of  the  deli 
cate  tracery  of  nodding  leaf  and  twig  that  gave  the  Arabs 
their  airily  fantastic  style. 

There  within  those  labyrinths  never  do  the  sun's  rays  pene 
trate. 

Only  from  the  margins  of  the  larger  streams  may  one  see 
that  here  and  there  the  cloudless  zenith  stripes  the  green  for 
est  roof  with  pale  sapphire  bands. 

And  when  the  wind  is  sleeping  in  distant  caverns  or  muster 
ing  its  forces  high  aloft  among  the  mountain  peaks,  then  the 
hand  of  God  paints  upon  stilled  waters  pictures  of  the  infinite 
riches  with  which  He  has  margined  them. 

Poetry?  Here,  near  by,  surely  must  reside  its  very  spirit. 

For  here  one's  every  languorous  sense  is  suffused  with  the 
most  intoxicating  perfumes,  melodies  and  beauties  of  nature. 

Here  flower-wreathed  towering  trunks  that  are  the  offspring 
of  remote  centuries  fire  the  imagination  with  visions  of  mad 
revel  in  the  palaces  of  ancient  days. 

Here  the  fragile  beauty  of  orchids  peoples  the  shadows  with 
the  tantalizing  forms  of  dancing  nymphs. 

Nor  is  the  appeal  of  these  dusky  labyrinths  limited  to  the 
voluptuous. 

Far  from  it. 

For  here  is  the  primitive  abode  of  all  pathos  and  tragedy. 

Here  first  sounded  the  most  saddening  moans  of  the  one  and 
the  most  agonizing  screams  of  the  other. 

Here  began,  away  back  in  the  early  morning  of  Time,  the 
ruthless  struggle  for  survival  of  the  fittest  that  may  never  end 
so  long  as  men  are  born  and  seeds  germinate. 

Here  never  may  one  long  dwell  with  his  blither  phantasies. 

[34] 


JOYS  AND  TERRORS  OF  THE  JUNGLE 

Here  merry  carols  are  quickly  followed  by  shuddering  and 
sobs. 

What  small  wonder  so  many  of  the  primitive  races  of  hu 
manity  were  sun  worshippers  when  nothing  in  animate  nat 
ure  thrives  that  is  long  denied  the  sun  save  the  corrupt  and 
noisome  growths? 

Here  the  struggle  for  the  sun's  favors  is  at  its  bitterest.  Here 
each  giant  trunk  wars  ruthlessly  to  overtop  its  neighbors  and 
win  the  sun's  largess  that  alone  may  serve  to  rank  it  above 
the  dwarfed  and  feeble  it  has  mastered. 

In  its  turn,  sooner  or  later,  each  giant  trunk  falls  prey  to  the 
implacable  enemy  all  are  powerless  to  resist,  that  hideous,  re 
lentless  vegetable  python,  the  matapalo,  while  the  victims  it 
has  shouldered  aside  are  loaded  with  the  weight  of  orchids 
until  their  feeble  trunks  can  no  longer  support  the  burden,  or 
stripped  of  leaves  or  honeycombed  of  body  by  insects,  who  in 
their  turn,  of  course,  must  live. 

And  deep  down  in  the  dank  darkness  about  the  feet  of  the 
giants  and  the  dwarfed,  lurk  and  battle  among  themselves 
crowding  throngs  of  the  noisome,  short-lived  herbs  and  hate 
ful,  thorny  shrubs. 

Ugly  caricatures  are  they  of  the  nobler  forms  of  vegetable 
life. 

Accurately  do  they  typify  the  dwellers  of  the  underworld  of 
all  the  cities  man  has  ever  builded. 

And  hidden  among  them,  and  all  shrouded  in  grizzly,  fes 
tooning  mosses,  lay  the  majestic  torsos  of  the  mightier  mon- 
archs  of  earlier  forest  dynasties,  quicker  prey  to  effacement 
by  the  hand  of  Time  than  is  the  handiwork  of  the  vanished 
races  of  men. 


[35] 


CHAPTER  X 
DREAMING  IN  THE  TREE  TOPS 

Steadily  our  two  little  wild  ones  climbed  until  they  reached 
the  crest  of  the  spur,  where,  as  Esa  well  knew,  a  truly  royal 
palm  thrust  its  emerald  crown  high  above  all  its  neighbors. 

Approaching  it,  with  an  imperative  "Wait!"  to  Tugan,  up 
the  smooth,  straight  trunk  she  mounted  easily  as  on  a  stair 
case,  hitching  ahead  of  her  at  each  step  the  section  of  stout 
vine  she  had  whipped  around  the  palm  and  held  in  both  hands. 

Up  she  climbed,  farther  and  farther,  until,  just  as  she  was 
disappearing  into  the  shelter  of  the  palm's  wide-spreading  top, 
she  looked  to  Tugan  no  bigger  than  a  tiny  rodent. 

And  once  come  there  and  perched  in  her  favorite  nook,  what 
a  stupendous  spectacle  lay  spread  before  her! 

What  a  boundless  emerald  sea  whose  insistent  waves  swept 
up  the  broad  flanks  of  Mt.  Apo,  until  lost  among  the  mists 
that  hid  its  head,  and  lapped  the  farthest  confines  of  the  bird- 
child's  world ! 

A  sea  unruffled  through  the  still  hours  of  dawn  and  eventide 
when  tropical  breezes  best  love  to  take  their  rest,  wind-swept 
and  heaving  throughout  the  day ! 

An  emerald  sea  that  there  high  aloft  washed  Dewatas  feet 
and  whose  dusky  depths  down  far  below  her  were  the  haunt 
of  Busau,  of  Munowog  and  his  demon  brood,  the  Limbings! 

Yes,  and  far  away  beyond  that  emerald  sea,  near  where  the 
sun  retires  to  rest,  there  dwell  the  terrible  Moros,  and  off 
somewhere  on  their  right,  beyond  big  waters,  dwell  the  Pad 
dies,  whose  weapons  smoke  like  Mt.  Apo! 

Esa  shivers  and  nestles  deeper  into  better  concealment 
among  the  palm's  broad  fronds. 

What  if  any  of  the  mighty  of  Dewatas  hierarchy  should  see 
her  and  manifest  themselves? 

She  certainly  would  die  of  fright. 

As  for  the  Moros  and  the  Paddies,  for  them  she  does  not 

[37] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

care;  even  should  they  see  her  they  could  not  reach  her,  for 
neither  are  tree  folk  like  the  Monobos. 

Ah!  but  is  she  not  glad  she  brought  Tugan?  To  be  sure, 
there's  nothing  he  could  do  to  oppose  or  charm  away  the 
Mighty  Ones,  but  it  is  indeed  good  to  have  near  something 
that  is  warm  and  walks  and  climbs  and  talks  as  she  does. 

Thus,  while  it  was  the  fascination  Usup's  tribal  gods  had  for 
her  that  brought  her  there,  for  broad  outlook  over  the  vast 
domain  they  ruled,  for  a  time  their  lure  was  effaced  by  her 
fear  of  them,  and  she  sat  shivering  like  the  little  child  she  was. 

But  presently  the  great  somber  almond  eyes  grew  fixed,  and 
Esa  began  to  dream. 

And  through  her  dreams  raced  what  smokings  of  Mt.  Apo 
at  Dewatas  mighty  sneezes,  what  terrible  shakings  and  rend- 
ings  of  the  earth  at  the  stampings  of  his  feet;  what  demon  rev 
els  among  the  Limbings  and  cruel  devil  work  by  Busau;  what 
atrocities  by  the  Moros  and  what  stupidities  among  the  Pad 
dies! 

Frightful  folk  were  they  all,  gods  and  humans  alike,  but  had 
not  Usup  taught  her  how  to  avoid  and  escape  some  and  to 
charm,  wheedle  or  constrain  others  to  the  doing  of  her  will, 
even  as  he,  the  great  Lukus  and  Ingorandy,  influenced  and 
employed  them? 

So  on  and  on  she  dreamed  for  hours  until  the  heat  of  the 
high-mounted  sun  roused  her  and  she  rose  from  the  conceal 
ment  of  her  nest,  rose  brave  with  the  confidence  come  of  a 
growing  sense  of  mastery,  the  dark  eyes  flashing  resolution. 

Out  and  around  her  she  boldly  gazed. 

Ha!  Let  them  come,  any  of  them,  from  Dewata  down  to  the 
littlest  Limbing! 

She  would  know  how  to  receive  them. 

She  would  show  them  she  was  worthy  daughter  of  wise  old 
Usup,  fit  to  take  up  his  mantle  when  he  dropped  it!  Let  them 
come! 

And  then  suddenly  realizing  she  must  race  to  reach  Pugsan 
before  the  sun  stood  straight  aloft,  and,  like  all  her  clan  sis 
ters,  dutiful  to  her  parents  as  few  daughters  of  civilization 

[38] 


DREAMING  IN  THE  TREE  TOPS 

are,  down  the  smooth  palm  trunk  she  slid,  aided  by  her  vine 
rope. 

There  at  the  palm's  foot  Tugan  awaited  her,  oddly  for  a  lit 
tle  savage,  awake,  after  dull  hours  of  idle  waiting  for  her  de 
scent. 

Indeed,  there  had  been  no  sleep  for  Tugan  that  morning  for 
the  mystery  of  the  new  traits  Esa  was  developing  and  her 
strange  conduct  had  set  him  puzzling  to  understand  them 
until  his  head  ached.  And  now  that  she  was  again  beside  him, 
he  was  as  far  from  an  answer  as  when  she  had  disappeared 
among  the  palm  fronds. 

"Tired  waiting,  Tugan?"  she  smiled. 

"Tired?  No,"  he  answered,  "but  in  the  name  of  the  father 
of  alligators,  what  have  you  been  doing  up  there  in  the  palm's 
top?  Asleep,  I  suppose." 

"No,  Tugan,  not  sleeping,  and  yet  dreaming." 

"Dreaming!  Now  how  could  you  dream  without  first  sleep 
ing?  You  must  be  getting  wise  as  Usup  or  crazy  as  Punungan 
when  he  drinks  his  fill  of  palm  wine." 

"Were  you  to  get  like  me — only  you  won't — you  would  know 
that  one  may  dream  more  waking  than  sleeping" — shortly 
adding,  after  a  tired  sigh  at  thought  of  the  heavy  tasks  her 
father  was  setting  her,  "I  may  get  as  crazy  as  Punungan,  but 
never  as  wise  as  Usup." 

"Wouldn't  get  like  you  if  I  could,"  the  boy  pouted,  "for  you 
can't  make  anything  out  of  your  dreams,  or  kill  and  eat  them. 
More  fun  out  in  the  bush  with  your  bow  or  blow  gun  in  an 
hour  than  in  a  dream  a  day  long — nor  will  a  dream  fill  an 
empty  belly." 

When,  having  in  mind  the  generous  offerings  to  his  gods 
Usup  easily  procured — and  appropriated — she  broadly  smiled 
and  replied,  "Ah,  but  there's  where  you're  wrong  again,  Tu 
gan,  for  so  you  know  how  to  profit  by  dreams,  they  will  feed 
more  people  than  can  twenty  hunters." 

Which  was  about  the  last  word  needful  to  convince  him  that 
Esa  was  too  crazy  to  be  worth  talking  to  longer  on  the  sub 
ject. 

[391 


CHAPTER  XI 
A    HUMAN    BAIT 

"Well! — Well,  may  the  Merrimac  dry  up  and  my  turbines 
lack  water  if  I  ever  heard  the  like  of  that!"  growled  James 
Snell,  when  Ruth  proposed  she  be  turned  over  to  his  Sales 
Manager.  "You " 

"Pardon,  sir;  let's  stay  wholly  rational  and  try  to  be  logical," 
Ruth  interrupted.  "Let's  call  things  by  their  right  names. 
To  you,  I'm  nothing  but  a  bait  with  which  to  tempt  and  hook 
the  richest  fish  your  line  will  reach.  That's  all  my  marriage 
means  to  you." 

"You're  putting  the  case  brutally  hard,  young  woman;  I 
won't " 

"Pardon  again,  sir;  you  know  I'm  only  stating  the  simple 
truth. 

"Moreover,  you  cannot  pretend  to  deny  I'm  the  most  valu 
able  single  asset  you  have,  for  on  your  own  admission  you  are 
expecting  me  to  bring  millions. 

"Now,  sir;  if  you  are  not  blind  or  false  to  all  your  business 
principles,  you'll  cease  limiting  the  play  of  your  bait  to  the 
slenderly  stocked  neighborhood  pools. 

"Your  reel  holds  a  line  long  enough  to  girdle  and  criss-cross 
the  earth.  Free  the  reel  and  let  your  line  out. 

"Flick  your  bait  about  among  the  fat  fish  of  New  York  and 
Pittsburg  and  Chicago,  of  London  and  Constantinople,  of 
Teheran  and  Central  India.  Yes,  even  fish  the  foul  Ganges, 
for  matters  not  to  you  the  slime  he  haunts  so  your  fish  weighs !" 

"Ha !  Ha !  And  so  you're  marking  yourself  up,  young  woman ; 
you're—-" , 

"No,  sir;  were  I  doing  the  price  making,  I'd  be  marking 
down,  not  up.  But  it's  not  a  case  of  price  making  with  you. 
Rather,  it's  just  an  auction,  and  you're  risking  me  before  a 
stupidly  small  audience. 

"Am  I  not  worth  advertising,  I  repeat?  Would  I  not  make 

[41] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

an  effective,  yes,  perhaps  even  a  strikingly  pleasing  subject 
for  the  best  half-tone  the  modern  processes  produce? 

"Circulate  me  broadly,  whether  as  an  insert  in  heathen 
scriptures,  as  you  propose,  or  otherwise,  are  you  not  pretty 
sure  to  find  a  higher  bidder  for  me  than  young  Kent?  Espe 
cially  if  such  legend  as  your  resourceful  Sales  Manager  de 
vises  for  the  striking  enumeration  of  my  charms  should  also 
display,  in  bold  type,  whatever  arrangement  of  seven  figures 
you  calculate  will  represent  the  fortune  you  are  intending  to 
leave  me?" 

The  cruel  old  mill  master's  usually  pallid  face  purpled  with 
anger,  but  it  was  in  very  cold,  low  tones  he  answered,  "Huh! 
Not  such  a  bad  idea.  Might  try  it  if  I'd  thought  of  it  myself. 

"But  since  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  changing  plans  I've  once 
settled  on,  either  you  will  accept  and  marry  young  Kent  or 
two  figures,  of  low  denomination  at  that,  will  represent  the 
value  of  the  fortune  I'll  leave  you!" 

To  which  Ruth  just  as  firmly  answered,  "Quite  as  you  like 
as  regards  your  money;  indeed,  if  it  has  all  come  to  you  as 
filthy  as  would  be  that  you  now  seek  to  annex  at  my  expense, 
I'm  sure  I  don't  want  a  penny  of  it. 

"But  as  for  my  marriage,  you  can  depend  that  will  be  quite 
as  I  like,  when  and  with  whom  I  like,  and  you  may  be  sure 
young  Kent  will  never  be  considered  by  me." 

The  huge,  rude  figure  shook  slightly  with  rage. 

The  pale  blue  fish  eyes  gleamed  balefully  as  those  of  a  roused 
reptile. 

The  great  misshapen  fingers  worked  nervously  as  if  eager  to 
seize  her  throat  or  hurl  a  missile  at  her  head. 

And  doubtless  he  would  have  seized  or  struck  her  but  for  his 
lifelong  practice  of  contriving  crueler  punishment  than  any 
his  own  nard  hands  could  deliver. 

But  presently,  the  clutching  fingers  stilled. 

The  purple  face  faded  to  pasty  white. 

And  then  there  turned  and  left  the  room  a  characteristic 
specimen  of  a  hideous  modern  type  that  neither  religion  nor 
other  refining  influences  of  civilization  have  sufficed  to  up- 

[42] 


A  HUMAN  BAIT 

lift  a  single  jot  above  squalid  unlettered  brutes  except  in 
knowledge  that  more  profit  may  be  had  of  their  victims  by 
exhausting  their  muscles  in  labor  than  by  slaying  them  and 
gnawing  their  bones. 

And  as  he  marched  down  the  path  toward  his  mills,  blind  to 
the  flowers  that  lined  it,  indifferent  to  their  fragrance,  deaf 
to  the  sweet  piping  of  the  birds  perched  in  the  arching  elms, 
less  God-fearing,  despite  all  his  protestations  and  all  his  pains 
taking  observance  of  his  creed's  external  forms,  than  any  pa 
gan,  he  growled  through  set  teeth : 

"By  God!  but  that  girl  would  make  a  great  business  woman, 
if  I  could  only  break  her !  Well,  if  I  can't,  it  will  be  make  her 
own  living  for  her.  Not  a  penny  of  mine  shall  she  have!" 


[43] 


CHAPTER  XII 
BATTLING  WITH  THE  WILD  BOAR 

Leaving  the  royal  palm,  away  home-bound  Esa  and  Tugan 
sped  through  the  forest,  Esa  as  usual  gliding  in  the  lead,  and 
snatching  a  flower  here  and  there  until,  shortly,  she  had  her 
self  decked  with  a  crown  far  more  beautiful  if  not  so  regal  as 
the  emerald  crest  of  the  palm  she  had  just  left,  for  still  in  all 
but  her  knowledge  of  Usup's  grim  lore  she  was  just  a  romping, 
forest  child. 

Nor,  as  it  happened,  was  their  return  to  be  less  free  of  start 
ling  incident  than  was  their  coming. 

For  not  far  had  they  gone  before  who  should  step  out  upon 
them  from  concealment  in  bush  than  Lancona,  so  suddenly 
that  instinctively  they  raised  their  weapons,  but  fortunately 
so  near  they  recognized  her  before  they  had  time  to  wield  them. 

And  clearly  Lancona  herself  had  been  noless  startledthan  they , 
for  she  was  replacing  a  little  blow  gun  dart  among  its  mates. 

Such  are  the  surprises  of  jungle  life  and  so  must  jungle  folk 
ever  be  on  the  alert  to  meet  them. 

"Ah,  so  it's  you,  young  ones,"  she  smiled;  "you  gave  me  a 
fright;  I  could  not  fancy  what  folk  could  be  coming  at  such 
speed.'* 

And  then  she  picked  up  the  bundle  of  potent  herbs  she  had 
been  gathering,  all  carefully  wrapped  in  the  broad  leaves  of 
the  platanillo  to  guard  them  from  the  prying  eyes  of  the  un- 
anointed  in  the  secrets  of  her  medicinal  art,  and  fell  into  pace 
with  them. 

Perhaps  it  was  Dewata  who  sent  her  to  them. 

Who  knows? 

Anyway,  it  was  not  long  before  they  were  so  thinking,  and 
when  they  got  to  Pugsan  and  told  Usup,he  agreed  it  must  be  so. 

For  only  a  little  way  had  the  three  proceeded  together  be 
fore  they  met  a  lone  wild  boar,  a  huge,  grizzled  ancient  of 
his  mob,  who  like  most  old  males  of  the  larger  four-footed 

[45] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

folk  met  flocking  by  themselves,  will  more  often  fight  than  run. 

Nor  was  he  an  exception. 

No  more  had  his  fierce  little  eyes  spied  them  than  at  them 
he  charged,  bristles  and  ears  straight  upstanding  and  great 
tusks  gnashing,  tusks  big  and  sharp  enough  to  rip  the  heart 
out  of  an  alligator  at  a  single  slash. 

Sprung  so  suddenly  upon  them  was  the  peril,  that,  had  the 
children  been  by  themselves,  surely  one  or  both  had  perished. 

Neither  screamed,  nor  much  less  did  they  shirk  or  try  to  fly; 
but  their  little  hearts  were  so  aflutter  of  the  surprise  and  the 
terror  of  it,  and  their  little  hands  so  inexperienced  in  meeting 
such  a  jack-out-o'-the-box  emergency,  that  Esa's  dart  struck 
no  better  than  a  leg,  whence  its  poison  would  be  slow  to  reach 
and  stop  the  heart,  and  Tugan's  arrow  splintered  on  the  massive 
head — just  enough  to  sharply  spur  the  boar's  fury. 

Instantly  dropping  bow,  Tugan  bravely  met  the  charge  with 
a  spear  thrust  that  tore  the  grizzled  side  but  glanced  along 
the  ribs,  and  paid  for  his  temerity  by  being  sent  to  earth  with 
a  gaping  gash  deep  in  the  muscles  of  the  thigh. 

But  then,  just  as  the  boar  turned  upon  Esa,  Lancona,  slow 
er  to  make  ready  for  action  than  the  children  but  steady  of 
her  years  of  experiencejanded  a  blow-gun  dart  deep  in  a  mad 
ly  blinking  eye  that  set  the  monster  whirling  in  circles  and 
shrilly  squealing  of  pain  until  she  had  time  to  snatch  Tugan's 
spear  and  finish  him  with  a  stab  behind  the  shoulder. 

Useful  mothers  does  jungle  life  make,  ready  for  any  emer 
gency — and  devoted  as  well,  ever  utterly  reckless  of  self 
where  their  young  are  threatened. 

Esa?  Worthy  daughter  of  Lancona  was  she,  or  would  be  in 
time  when  she  had  steadied  a  bit,  for  in  the  seconds  that  suf 
ficed  for  these  happenings  she  had  placed  three  more  darts  in 
the  big  enemy,  but  so  badly  that  they  could  not  have  sufficed 
to  save  her  had  she  been  alone. 

And  Tugan?  Oh,  Lancona  did  not  make  much  of  a  scratch 
like  that.  Trifles  like  that  were  minor  incidents  among  the 
perils  jungle  folk  constantly  run.  Soon  her  shrewdly  working 
herbs  would  heal  it. 

[46] 


CHAPTER  XIII 
"WORK,  MOTHER;  I'LL  WORK" 

Meantime,  Ruth  stood  where  her  father  had  left  her,  still 
and  quite  as  white  as  a  marble  statue. 

Presently  her  mother,  who  had  sat  throughout  the  interview 
a  silent  and  more  or  less  impassive  listener,  disciplined  from 
her  youth  to  hold  her  tongue  and  never  to  question  James 
Snell's  mandates,  approached,  laid  her  hand  on  the  girl's 
shoulder  and  said : 

"But,  Ruth,  girl,  you're  forgetting  we've  always  got  to  do 
just  what  pa  says.  He  don't  never  change  his  mind.  If  you 
don't  take  young  Kent,  pa'II  never  do  for  you.  What  can  you 
be  thinking  of?  Ain't  you  afraid?" 

"Afraid,  mother?"  Ruth  answered.  "I'm  far  less  afraid  of  any 
thing  I  may  suffer  of  his  not  doing  for  me  than  of  the  shame 
of  what  he  wants  to  do  to  me — to  marry  me  to  a  fool." 

"But  when  he  turns  you  out  of  the  house,  what  will  I  do, 
daughter?" 

"You,  mother?  Oh,  you'll  continue  doing  what  you've  al 
ways  done,  and  will  never  cease  doing  while  you  live — you'll 
continue  doing  his  will;"  adding,  after  a  short  pause,  "but 
not  for  me;  none  of  his  cruel  will  for  me — nor  will  I  wait  to  be 
turned  out  by  him." 

"But  what  can  you  do,  daughter,  by  yourself?" 

"I'm  sure  I've  not  thought  yet,  mother,  but  at  least  I  can 
undo  his  brutal  plan  to  barter  his  own  flesh  and  blood  for 
money. 

"And  perhaps  somewhere,  somehow,  I  can  do  something  for 
humanity  to  offset  his  crimes  against  it." 

"Crimes,  daughter?  That's  a  hard  word.  Surely  you  cannot 
mean  to  apply  it  to  such  a  just  and  law-abiding  man  as  pa! 
Crimes  the  courts  punish,  and  they've  never  had  pa  in  the 
court." 

"Ah,  mother,"  Ruth  wearily  sighed,  "too  many,  far  too  many 

[47] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

of  the  biggest  crimes  against  humanity  the  courts  do  not  punish. 

"Just  and  law-abiding  he?  Yes,  perhaps;  just  when  justice 
cannot  defeat  his  plans  or  lessen  his  profits ;  law-abiding  where 
farther  o'erstepping  the  law  would  compromise  him." 

"But  where — how  could  you  support  yourself,  daughter, 
after  father  cuts  you  off?" 

"Work,  mother,  I'll  work!  Has  not  father  taught  us  to  work, 
ground  it  into  us  until  we'd  not  know  how  or  where  to  begin 
at  trying  to  play?  I'll  work,  to  be  sure,  since  I  don't  know 
how  to  play — and  may  not  play  if  I  would.  I'll  teach,  I  think. 
Home  discipline  and  Wellesley  should  have  made  me  a  ca 
pable  propagandist." 

"But  where  will  you  begin,  Ruth?" 

"Either  at  the  very  top  or  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  social 
ladder,  mother,  for  the  masses  on  its  mid  rungs  are  sane  and 
clean  enough  not  to  need  teaching  so  badly,  can  be  safely 
trusted  to  themselves. 

"It  matters  not  the  least  at  which  end  I  begin. 

"So  many  of  those  at  the  top  of  the  ladder  are  dwarfed  of 
soul  to  the  measure  of  Stone  Age  types  of  manhood  and  woman 
hood  and  are  so  corrupt  of  vices  that  would  shock  the  rawest 
Stone  Age  brutes  that  they  need  purification  as  badly  as  the 
jungle  savages  need  uplift  out  of  their  ignorance. 

"I'll  go  to  the  wilderness,  mother,  to  any  wilderness,  say  to 
the  Philippine  Islands,  and  teach  my  naked  sister  of  the  jungle 
to  clothe  herself,  or  else  I'll  stay  at  home  and  try  to  teach  my 
sister  of  the  haute  monde  the  shameless  viciousness  of  half 
clothing  herself. 

"Successful  with  either  that  far,  I  shall  have  hopes  of  con 
vincing  her  God  has  given  her  a  mind  with  which  she  may 
think  and  hands  that  may  be  better  employed  than  in  deck 
ing  herself  with  gawds — to  which  the  one  is  as  much  addicted 
as  the  other." 

"But,  child,  what  could  you  hope  to  accomplish  alone?" 

"Ah,  mother,  I'd  not  be  working  alone,  I'm  thinking. 

"In  savagery,  possibly;  yes. 

"But  here  so  little  would  I  be  alone  that  instead  I'd  be  only 


"WORK,  MOTHER;  I'LL  WORK" 

an  insignificant  unit  of  the  vast,  irresistible  army  of  good 
women  that  shortly  will  be  bursting  all  the  last  of  the  barriers 
the  world  over  that  limit  their  privileges,  an  army  that  will 
shortly  efface  the  last  of  the  monarchies  and  will  purify  re 
publics — the  only  army  that  can  be  looked  to  to  purify  pri 
vate  and  public  life  and  uplift  the  races. 

"Man  has  had  his  chance,  mother.  He  has  been  tried  and 
found  wanting. 

"Since  the  dawn  of  history,  the  wick  of  his  intellect  has  been 
alight  and  burning,  but  it  has  not  sufficed  to  light  humanity 
materially  nearer  to  the  practice  of  the  immortal  precepts  of 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  than  prevailed  when  the  Christ 
spoke  it. 

"Perhaps  those  precepts  may  never  be  realized.  God  alone 
knows.  But  certainly  they  can  never  be  realized  so  long  as 
any  form  of  human  bondage  exists  upon  the  earth.  For  the 
basic  principles  of  those  precepts  are  Freedom,  Equality, 
Justice. 

"Man  has  had  his  chance,  a  free,  untrammelled  chance.  He 
has  gone  far  and  done  much.  But  where  in  all  the  world  to 
day  is  not  Freedom  still  a  fledgling,  Equality  a  mockery  and 
Justice  a  reproach? 

"Where  is  Justice  so  long  as  laws  of  primogeniture  and  free 
right  to  disinherit  may  serve  to  fatten  a  fool  or  rascally  rake 
or  starve  a  daughter  who  asserts  her  independence  of  greedy 
family  plans  for  her  disposal? 

"Where  is  Equality  so  long  as  lords  may  continue  lording 
it  and  money  creates  castes? 

"Where  is  Freedom  until  the  laws  give  women  equal  rights 
and  privileges  with  men? 

"Surely  men  must  be  victims  of  mental  strabismus. 

"Else  they  had  gone  infinitely  farther,  and  higher. 

"Freely  have  they  given  of  their  lives  and  gold,  in  millions 
of  both,  to  strike  from  all  blacks  their  shackles — and  yet  just 
as  stubbornly  have  they  fought  woman's  struggles  for  intel 
lectual  and  political  equality  and  privilege. 

"Can  human  bondage  cease  so  long  as  woman  is  denied  equal 

[49] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

privilege  with  men  and  fathers  constrain  daughters  to  marry 
where  they'll  fetch  the  most? 

"Never;  never,  mother. 

"But,  thank  God,  the  dawn  is  breaking,  the  dawn  of  the  day 
that  shall  be  made  immortally  glorious  by  the  emancipation 
of  woman. 

"Light  the  wick  of  woman's  intellect,  give  free  play  in  pub 
lic  affairs  to  her  spiritually  acute  perceptivity  and  penetra 
tion,  make  place  in  the  fighting  line  for  her  super-masculine 
readiness  of  resource  and  intrepidity,  train  her  steel-nerved 
hand  to  the  use  of  the  political  scalpel,  and — well,  the  millen 
nium  won't  come,  but  the  world  cannot  fail  to  be  vastly  bet 
tered." 

"Freedom!  Privilege  to  do  what  one  likes!  I  just  wonder 
what  that  would  feel  like?"  the  tired  old  mother  murmured. 


[50] 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  DATUS 

The  afternoon  of  their  encounter  with  the  wild  boar,  prob 
ably  nothing  but  Tugan's  bad  wound,  and  the  fact  that  she 
and  Lancona  had  to  all  but  carry  him  in,  saved  Esa  from 
chiding  by  Usup,  the  mild,  kindly  chiding  which  is  about  the 
severest  chastisement  jungle  children  suffer  at  the  hands  of 
their  parents. 

Certainly  she  was  very  late,  too  late  old  Usup  decided  for  a 
satisfactory  lesson,  for  he  was  a  glutton  for  work  at  his  self- 
imposed  pedagogue's  task. 

Once  begun  a  lesson,  he  loved  to  yarn  on  for  hours. 

Or  perhaps  he  did  not  love  it,  but  instead  was  driven  to  haste 
with  the  instruction  of  Esa  by  realization  of  his  advancing 
age  and  anxiety  to  complete  her  preparation  to  succeed  him 
while  yet  he  might. 

Then,  moreover,  the  clan  had  for  some  time  been  manifest 
ing,  mildly,  to  be  sure,  and  yet  plainly,  a  keen  sense  of  his 
neglect  of  them.  They  missed  the  dearly  loved  melodies  of 
his  kuteehapee  and  the  wonder  and  the  thrills  in  which  his 
stories  were  never  lacking. 

For  before  beginning  the  instruction  of  Esa,  few  were  the 
nights  they  were  not  assembled  in  a  close  huddle  around  him, 
intent  upon  his  absorbing  tales. 

Wild  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his,  mouths  widely  gaping. 

Eagerly  they  drank  in  the  miraculous  doings  he  recounted, 
whether  it  was  of  the  Moros,  the  Paddies  or  their  gods  he  was 
speaking. 

For  he  talked  to  them  just  as  freely  of  Dewata  and  his  famil 
iars  as  of  the  tribe's  history  and  the  doings  of  their  neighbors, 
of  all  except  his  private  relations  and  dealings  with  them. 

These,  -of  course,  it  was  not  good  (for  him)  that  they  should 
know. 

So  it  was  a  very  well  pleased  lot  of  the  clan  folk  that  came 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

crowding  close  when,  that  afternoon,  Usup  passed  the  word 
that  the  rest  of  his  day  was  theirs. 

Their  assembly  chamber  was  a  wide  space  near  the  village, 
cleared  of  bush  to  better  admit  the  breezes,  its  high  arching 
leafy  roof  supported  by  noble  trunks  that  gave  it  at  once  a 
beauty  and  a  dignity  no  temple  builded  by  man  has  ever 
equalled. 

Small  the  wonder  that  in  such  a  temple,  presided  over  by 
such  a  wise  Lukus  and  powerful  Ingorandy,  charmed  by  such 
music — the  low  trills  of  the  kuteehapee,  the  whispering  of  the 
leaves  and  the  gentle  murmur  of  MalbuPs  purling  waters 
blending  in  divinely  soft  melodies — the  Pugsan  folk  sat  spell 
bound,  entranced. 

That  day,  Usup  elected  to  tell  them  of  their  neighbors,  mostly 
stories  they  had  heard  scores  of  times  but  that  they  never 
wearied  of  hearing. 

As  the  Moros  were  their  own  next  neighbors,  he  began,  so 
the  Filipinos,  the  original  wild  tribesmen  whom  the  Paddies 
had  subjected,  peoned,  and,  in  a  crude  way,  instructed,  dwelt 
next  beyond  the  Moros,  and  among  Moros  and  Filipinos  lived 
the  Chinos,  cunning  traders  who  got  the  best  of  it  at  bargain 
ing.  Their  traffic  they  extended  among  the  hill  tribes  as  fast 
as  they  were  able,  through  the  influence  of  the  Moro  Datus. 

Sly  people  were  the  Chinos,  never  risking  their  necks  or 
goods  by  any  sort  of  battling,  strengthening  their  hold  on  the 
Datus  by  playing  their  own  tricks — picking  their  wives  from 
among  the  kinswomen  or  the  discarded  concubines  of  the 
Datus,  just  as  the  Datus'  harems  are  seldom  lacking  in  rela 
tives  of  the  chiefs  or  Ingorandy s  of  their  hill  neighbors. 

The  mass  of  the  Moros  he  always  found  good  people. 

They  are  brave  in  war  and  desperate  fighters,  but  kind  to 
their  families  and  the  few  slaves  the  Datus'  relentless  squeez 
ing  of  them  permits  them  to  own. 

Honest  they  are,  too,  as  are  all  Monobos,  and  devoted  to  the 
one  wife  of  their  choice  as  are  the  guacamayos,  who  never  are 
seen  separated  from  their  mates,  whether  flying  or  perched, 
as  all  jungle  folk  well  know,  and  their  tongues  are  straight. 


THE  DATUS 

But  with  the  Datus,  ah,  it  is  very  different. 

Their  tongues  are  crooked  as  the  hill  brooks,  and  all  the 
things  they  think  and  do  are  crooked  as  their  tongues. 

Their  lives  are  bad,  all  bad. 

Even  when  they  swear  by  their  Allah,  any  who  believe  them 
are  deceived. 

Meaner  and  more  cowardly  than  the  lowest  of  their  slaves, 
they  have  a  tigre's  love  of  torturing  all  they  can  fix  their  claws  in 
before  sucking  the  life  blood,  and  cruel  are  they  to  their  own  peo 
ple  as  to  the  hill  tribes  they  war  upon,  until  they  are  ready  to 
purchase  peace  with  tribute. 

Slaves  and  loot,  slaves  robbed  of  their  neighbors  and  loot 
they  call  taxes  squeezed  from  their  own  clan  and  others  they 
can  subjugate,  that's  all  the  Datus  live  for,  except  women. 

For  the  richer  they  grow  the  bigger  houses  do  they  build  and 
call  harems  and  the  more  women  do  they  crowd  into  them, 
uncontent  with  one  woman  as  no  right-living  man  should  be. 

Chiefly  off  the  Datus  do  the  Chinos  fatten. 

To  them  they  sell  the  pretty  stuffs,  soft  and  bright-hued  as 
mariposa  wings,  with  which  they  love  to  clothe  themselves, 
wonderful  good  things  to  eat  or  to  have,  and  the  powerful 
Black  Poison  they  touch  fire  to  and  suck  the  smoke  of  to  make 
sleep  come. 

But  bad  as  he  is,  isn't  the  Datu  a  grand  sight  when  he  goes 
abroad? 

His  legs  are  encased  in  close  clinging  stuff,  shoulders  cover 
ed  by  a  tight  jacket  all  brilliant-colored  as  the  brightest  lora's 
wing  and  gleaming  with  metals  so  hard  to  get  and  dear  none 
but  Datus  may  have  them. 

Many  folds  of  other  stuffs  are  wrapped  around  his  head. 

The  kris  in  his  girdle  has  a  handle  that  shines  bright  yellow 
and  is  stuck  full  of  glittering  stones,  each  one  costing  the 
price  of  more  than  a  hundred  of  the  prettiest  girls  ever  auc 
tioned  to  bidders  for  the  harems ! 

And  his  following  is  only  a  little  less  gaudily  decked  than  is  he. 

First  comes  his  sword  bearer  and  executioner,  ever  at  his  el 
bow,  ready  to  do  his  bloody  behests. 

[53] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

At  his  left  walks  his  umbrella  bearer,  sheltering  him  from 
the  sun ;  on  his  right,  the  bearer  of  his  Buyo  box. 

And  trailing  behind  these,  like  the  tail  of  the  great  lights 
Dewata  now  and  then  sends  across  the  sky  to  manifest  His 
power  to  His  people,  is  a  long  string  of  his  secretaries  and 
sub-chiefs. 

The  Buyo  box?  Ah,  that  is  the  stimulant  the  Moros  love. 

It  may  be  good — Usup  has  never  tried  it — but  how  hideous 
it  makes  them,  turns  the  white  teeth  Dewata  gave  them  black 
as  Munowog's  eggs. 

Do  they  eat  the  box? 

No,  no;  they  eat  what  it  contains,  the  betel-nuts,  fruit  of  the 
bonga  palm,  mixed  with  a  white  powder  they  call  lime  and 
get  by  burning  certain  kinds  of  stone. 

Stained  with  cochineal  and  tobacco,  the  mess  is  flavored  with 
the  sour  juices  of  the  yellow  fruit  that  grows  on  trees  in  their 
gardens. 

Wow!  but  the  horrors  of  black  mouths  the  Moros  get  from 
their  Buyo  boxes ! 

Drunk;  does  it  make  drunk  come  like  the  palm  wine? 

Oh,  no;  else  the  Moros  would  never  use  it,  for  their  Allah's 
laws  forbid  them  to  use  anything  that  makes  drunk  come. 

It  just  gives  them  strength,  they  say. 

And  Usup  thinks  it  must  be  so,  for  when  they  have  partaken 
of  it  they  want  to  talk  for  hours. 

In  fact,  no  Moro,  least  of  all  a  Datu,  will  begin  any  serious 
talk  until  he  has  chewed  his  bonga  nut. 

But  then  look  out  for  him,  lest  he  talk  you  to  death. 


[54] 


CHAPTER  XV 
OUT  OF  BIG  HORIZONS  ARISE  BIG  MEN 

Like  all  tropical  communities,  Cotabato  had  been  drowsing 
through  the  torrid  heat  of  mid-afternoon. 

With  evening  drawing  near,  the  fronds  of  the  palms  were 
swaying  in  riotous  joy  of  the  refreshing  cool  kisses  the  brisk 
sea  breeze  brought  them. 

Likewise,  all  Cotabato  was  abroad  afoot,  each  eager  for  his 
or  her  reasonable  share  of  the  kisses. 

For  it  is  the  cool  breezes  of  eventide,  more  than  anything 
else,  that  quicken  the  dormant  energies  of  dwellers  in  the 
tropics,  keep  their  blood  from  utter  stagnation  and  rouse 
them  from  the  mental  lethargy  to  which  it  is  so  delightfully 
easy  to  succumb. 

The  town  had  filched  a  name  it  held  nothing  to  justify. 

Cota  means  Fort  and  Bato  stone,  and  the  old  stone  fort  that 
properly  owned  the  name  stood  on  a  hill  that  rose  one  hun 
dred  and  twenty-five  feet  above  the  swamps  and  river  that 
surrounded  the  half  dozen  blocks  of  reclaimed  land  that  held 
the  town,  and  distant  perhaps  three  hundred  yards  from  it. 

While  the  port  of  entry  for  the  superbly  rich  Rio  Grande 
valley  and  the  dense  Moro  population  that  occupies  it,  Cota 
bato  numbers  as  total  population  no  more  than  three  hundred 
Filipinos,  largely  a  legacy  from  the  now  extinct  Spanish 
minor  officialdom,  a  hundred  Chinese,  a  highly-mixed  and 
speckled  assortment  of  half-breeds,  two  Spanish  merchants 
and  one  white  planter. 

At  least,  that  was  its  status  when  the  War  Department  took 
it  over  and  undertook  the  administration  of  tne  region  that 
lay  behind  it. 

Nor  had  the  town  changed  in  the  meantime,  except  in  the 
improvement  in  its  sanitation  and  the  construction  of  bar 
racks  for  the  troops,  regulars  and  native  constabulary,  quar- 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

ters  for  their  officers,  buildings  to  house  the  civil  administra 
tion,  a  hospital,  and  a  school  house. 

But  the  civil  administration,  that  is  to  say,  the  political  ad 
ministration,  was  still  military,  and  its  local  head  was  the 
General  commanding  all  the  Moro  provinces  from  his  head 
quarters  at  Zamboanga. 

And  that  was  a  day  of  extraordinary  excitement  for  Cota- 
bato,  for  the  Coast  Guard  boat  Palawan  nodded  lazily  at  her 
anchor  in  I  liana  Bay,  and  the  General  commanding  was  ar 
rived  ashore  on  a  tour  of  inspection. 

That  particular  General  commanding  knew  good  material 
when  he  saw  it,  and  let  none  escape  he  could  utilize.  In  which 
he  was  wise,  for,  naturally,  good  material  for  the  tasks  con 
fronting  him  was  extremely  rare,  men  of  character  and  abil 
ity  who  were  familiar  with  the  Moros  and  knew  their  tongue. 

In  fact,  at  the  moment  there  was  only  one  such  available  in 
all  Mindanao,  and  it  was  chiefly  to  persuade  him  to  enter 
Government  service  that  the  General  was  come. 

Thus  it  happened  that,  the  cool  of  evening  come,  the  Gen 
eral  and  Joseph  Morine  sat  together  upon  the  wall  of  the  old 
stone  fort  that  topped  Tantual  Hill. 

Morine  was  a  very  remarkable  man,  the  sort  that  grow  more 
remarkable,  and  admirable,  and  useful,  under  the  mellowing 
of  the  years.  For  he  was  of  a  rare  sort  that  inspires  abiding 
faith  in  all  who  come  to  know  him  that  the  years  cannot  run 
on  long  enough  to  develop  anything  to  his  discredit. 

Joseph  Morine  was  one  of  the  type  of  men  it  is  a  positive  joy 
to  meet.  One  glance,  and  you  knew  you  could  trust  him — 
and  that  he  would  trust  you,  if  you  deserved  it.  But  you 
would  have  to  deserve  it,  that  was  a  positive  certainty.  As 
well  try  to  deceive  the  Almighty  Intelligence  as  to  trifle  with 
him. 

And  yet  he  was  a  man  as  attractive  to  play  with  as  to  work 
or  fight  with.  Indeed,  the  wide-set,  steel-blue  eyes  sunk  in  deep 
caverns  beneath  the  imposing  cranial  cliff  that  towered  high 
above  them  were  so  habitually  twinkling  with  kindly  humor, 
that,  at  first  experience  of  it,  you  were  startled  when  they 

[56] 


OUT  OF  BIG  HORIZONS  ARISE  BIG  MEN 

hardened  to  the  expression  of  some  purpose  that  you  instant 
ly  recognized  to  be  as  immutable  as  Destiny. 

Nor  was  the  Morine  mouth  less  misleading,  what  little  you 
saw  of  it  in  its  ambush  behind  the  great  brown,  gracefully 
curved  guardsman's  mustache.  Full  were  the  lips  and  gentle 
their  expression,  while  the  eyes  twinkled  humor.  But,  once 
roused,  immediately  the  lips  were  swallowed  and  there  re 
mained  naught  but  a  ruthless  straight  slit  that  spelled  fight 
or  fade  to  all  in  contrary  interest. 

Only  the  nose  was  entirely  frank  and  aboveboard.  Bold  and 
straight  but  thin  of  nostril,  the  stupidest  adversary  would 
know  that  he  could  never  hope  to  make  that  nose  get  out  of 
his  way  until  its  wearer  was  dead. 

Here  was  a  man  quick  of  wrath  but  slow  to  vent  it,  aggres 
sively  bold,  but  so  boldly  just  that  he  was  incapable  of  main 
taining  he  was  right  when  he  knew  he  was  wrong. 

Indeed,  to  him,  justice  and  equity  were  his  religion. 

Any  and  all  forms  of  wrongdoers  he  despised  and  hated. 

And  heavy  fell  his  hand,  almost  cruelly  sometimes,  when 
ever  needful  to  correct  or  efface  malefaction. 

Among  the  Moros  he  had  lived  for  some  years,  as  planter 
and  trader,  with  him  a  wife  well  worthy  of  him  and  a  son  who 
adored  him,  a  lad  of  ten. 

All  Moros  trusted  him,  the  better  Datus  because  they  had 
learned  to  esteem  him,  the  bad  ones  because  he  had  taken  oc 
casion  to  throw  the  fear  of  God  into  them. 

Only  out  of  contemplation  of  big  horizons  arise  big  men. 

Rarely  wide  and  varied  had  been  the  horizons  that  had 
molded  and  inspired  the  mind  of  Joseph  Morine. 

Indeed,  so  widely  round  the  world  had  he  ranged  that  he 
might  be  truly  described  as  an  adventurer  but  for  the  fact 
his  roamings  were  always  with  an  earnest  purpose  and  that 
his  time  was  always  employed  to  some  useful  end. 

A  native  of  Australia,  with  his  Irish  father,  he  ranged  the 
bush  trails  while  aboriginal  warriors  were  still  raiding,  high 
waymen  preying  on  the  travel  to  and  from  the  mines,  when 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

the  normally  upright  were  having  a  downright  hard  time 
pacifying  the  land. 

There  through  his  youth  a  participant  in  the  early  struggles 
of  the  Australians  to  free  themselves  from  monarchial  chains, 
Morine  acquired  the  hatred  of  dynastic  hypocrisy  and  op 
pression  that  made  him  both  a  close  observer  and  a  shrewd 
analyst  of  prevailing  political  conditions  wherever  his  wide 
travels  led  him. 

Leaving  home  early,  he  did  not  stop  going,  but  with  long 
stays  and  much  hard  work  en  route,  until  he  had  pretty  well 
ranged  Southern  Asia,  Central  Africa  and  its  East  Coast, 
Europe  and  North  America,  finding  the  United  States  so  far 
more  nearly  to  his  liking  than  even  his  native  Australia  that 
he  had  transferred  to  the  States  his  citizenship. 

Thus  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-five,  this  man  had  come  to 
know  the  world  as  do  few  men  ever  come  to  know  it,  and  its 
people  and  governments  had  been  his  favorite  study. 


[58] 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  MORO  RAIDERS 

No  more  was  Lancona  up  the  morning  after  Usup's  story 
telling,  her  fire  started  by  rubbing  two  dry  bamboo  sticks  to 
gether  and  breakfast  boiling  in  sections  of  green  bamboo  laid 
upon  the  live  coals,  than  she  sent  Esa  to  bind  fresh  herbs  on 
Tugan's  wounds. 

The  distance  from  her  own  nest  was  short,  and  soon  Esa 
had  reached  Tugan's  perch  and  found  that  Lancona's  potion 
had  kept  down  the  fever  and  that  her  herbs  already  had  his 
wounds  healing  nicely. 

Deftly  the  already  skillful  little  fingers  applied  the  fresh 
herbs. 

And  while  she  was  so  engaged  Tugan  reflectively  murmured : 

"Esa,  I  think  I'm  getting  more  afraid  of  you  every  day.  You 
are  going  to  be  a  greater  woman  than  Lancona.  Already,  you 
know  all  she  knows.  And  since  I  have  been  lying  here  think 
ing  about  your  strange  conduct  lately,  how  you  order  us  a- 
round  as  only  a  chief  or  Ingorandy  may,  how  you  often  stand 
and  even  talk  like  one  asleep,  I've  got  a  notion  that  Usup  is 
teaching  you  more  of  his  mysteries  than  he  tells  anyone  else." 

"And  so  you're  getting  afraid  of  me,  boy,"  Esa  smiled;  "non 
sense;  the  more  I  may  know  the  more  I  can  do,  don't  you 
think?" 

"Yes;  but  the  more  you  can  do,  the  less  you'll  want  to  have 
to  do  with  me,  I  fear." 

"Silly  Tugan!  I'm  getting  prouder  of  you.  That  was  a  bold 
stand  you  made  when  the  boar  charged  the  other  day,  even 
if  neither  your  arrow  nor  your  lance  hit  true.  Time  and  prac 
tice  will  mend  your  aim,  and  make  you  a  worthy  successor  to 
Punungan,  when  Busau  fails  us  and  some  enemy  slays  him!" 

"Maybe;  I  hope  so,"  Tugan  grinned,  "so  you  don't  take  a 
notion  to  head  the  clan  yourself  and  order  us  about  as  you  do 
me." 

[591 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"Ah,  boy,  that's  far  off,"  Esa  soberly  answered;  "Punungan 
and  Usup  are  still  strong.  Many  seasons  will  the  snakes  shed 
their  skins  before  you  may  wear  Punungan's  war  plumes — 
and  as  for  me,  what  should  put  such  a  silly  thought  in  your 
head?" 

"Why,  because  you  are  now  bolder  than  even  Usup — be 
cause  I'd  rather  see  you  Chief  and  be  your  man  than  myself 
be  Chief  without  you." 

"Well,  well;  it's  a  good  Tugan  and  I'm  proud  of  him.  He'll 
surely  make  the  best  warrior  of  all  the  lads  of  the  village — 
and  he  may  be  sure  Esa  won't  have  less  than  the  best,  even 
should  Usup  want  to  otherwise  dispose  of  her,  which  it's  not 
at  all  likely  he  will." 

"And  you  mean  you  really  will " 

Laughingly  Esa  interrupted : 

"Think  of  it!  I  mean  I'll  think  of  it,  boy — when  the  alligators 
that  are  now  little  have  grown  big." 

And  then,  after  a  light  slap  of  the  pouting  face,  she  nimbly 
slid  down  a  vine  and  raced  back  for  her  breakfast,  little  think 
ing  that  many,  very  many  weary  days  must  pass  before  she 
would  again  see  the  devoted  Tugan. 

Breakfast  over  and  such  plenty  in  the  village  that  none  need 
ed  to  go  prowling  into  the  forest  for  food,  soon  all  the  chil 
dren  and  many  of  the  elders  were  splashing  in  the  MalbuFs 
cool  waters,  while  the  rest  idled  along  the  margin  watching 
the  sport. 

Indeed,  the  Monobos  were  so  nearly  semi-amphibious  and 
spent  so  much  of  their  time  diverting  themselves  in  whatever 
stream  they  dwelt  on,  that  it  had  long  been  the  practice  of 
raiding  Moros  to  pick  the  early  morning  or  evening  hours  to 
locate  their  quarry,  slipping  silently  up  or  down  streams  in 
their  vintas  (dugouts)  until  the  merry  shouts  and  splashing  of 
the  tree  folk  pointed  the  chance  of  a  surprise. 

So  well  were  these  tactics  known  by  the  Monobos,  however, 
that  comparatively  few  were  the  actual  surprises. 

Usually  their  guards  spotted  an  approaching  enemy  before 
they  were  in  striking  distance  and  called  warnings  that  sent 

[60] 


THE  MORO  RAIDERS 

the  clan  folk  scurrying  away  through  the  jungle,  quick  to  dis 
appear  as  the  monkeys  whose  arboreal  activities  they  rivaled. 

But  that  morning  Pugsan  had  no  guards  out,  and  dearly  did 
Punungan  and  his  clan  folk  have  to  pay  for  his  carelessness. 

Raiding  vintas  were  abroad. 

A  primitive  little  flotilla,  led  by  Ishmael,  the  most  ruthless 
Saligan,  or  sub-chief,  of  Datu  Linta's  marauders,  was  cruis 
ing  for  prey. 

Each  vinta  was  crowded  with  fierce-eyed  fanatics  to  whom 
all  deniers  of  Mahomet  are  anathema. 

Lean  brown  men  the  vintas  carried,  naked  to  the  turbans 
that  sheltered  their  heads  from  the  blazing  tropical  sun  and 
the  waist  cloths  that  held  their  krises  and  campilans,  the  lat 
ter  the  same  straight  heavy  sabers,  swelling  to  wide  leaf- 
shape  near  the  point,  that  all  Mohammedan  tribesmen  still  ef 
fect. 

Quickly  Ishmael  made  his  dispositions  once  he  heard  the 
clamor  of  the  Pugsan  villagers. 

Cunningly  he  landed  two-thirds  of  his  force  and  started 
them  on  a  detour  that  soon  had  his  quarry  surrounded. 

Then,  silent  as  leopards,  his  warriors  narrowed  their  invest 
ing  lines  until,  presently,  and  all  in  an  instant,  the  Monobo 
laughter  was  turned  to  screams  of  pain,  shouts  of  rage  and 
wails  of  fear,  when  crash!  Crash!  thundered  the  terrible  Moro 
weapons  that  roar  like  Dewatas  voice  and  smoke  like  Mt. 
Apo! 


[61] 


CHAPTER  XVII 
ESA'S  FIGHT  FOR  LIBERTY 

If  war  in  general  is  Hell,  then  nothing  short  of  fiendish  is  it 
when  fire-armed  men  go  slaughtering  among  primitive  folk 
simple  as  the  earlier  of  Adam's  descendants. 

Oh,  the  horror  of  it,  and  the  wickedness ! 

And  all  to  profit  a  lazy,  crime-steeped  chief,  to  win  him 
slaves,  each  of  whom  captured  costs  the  fighting  tribesmen 
rarely  less  than  half  a  dozen  dead ! 

And  the  cruelty  of  it  I 

Barbarians? 

Yes. 

Pagans? 

Of  course. 

But  with  all  their  barbarism  and  paganism,  folk  of  far  cleaner 
lives  and  a  larger  assortment  of  virtues  than  their  captors 
may  truthfully  boast,  be  the  wild  tribesmen  what  and  their 
captors  whom  they  may. 

Ah,  sure  indeed  it  is  that  none  may  intimately  know  the 
primitive  races  and  not  be  filled  with  mingled  resentment 
and  regret  that  civilization  must  needs  intrude  upon  their 
idyllic  lives  only  to  demean  and  bedevil  them,  for  nowhere 
has  such  intrusion  meant  anything  better  for  them,  except  in 
such  instances  as  it  has  mercifully  resulted  in  their  extinc 
tion. 

Crash!  Crash!  thundered  the  terrible  Moro  weapons  that 
roar  like  Dewatas  voice  and  smoke  like  Mt.  Apo. 

And  instantly  down  dropped  several  of  the  tribefolk,  writh 
ing  of  wounds  or  stiffening  in  death. 

But  never  are  jungle  people  far  from  their  arms. 

Soon  long  arrows  were  so  stabbing  and  venomed  darts  prick 
ing  IshmaePs  men  that  for  a  time  made  them  keep  their  dis 
tance. 

In  fact,  the  Moros*  old  Tower  muskets  were  of  immaterially 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

greater  range  than  the  Monobo  bows,  notwithstanding  they 
had  the  sulphur  of  Mt.  Apo's  crater  and  the  saltpeter  of  num 
berless  bat  caves  to  draw  upon,  for  no  Moros  ever  attained 
much  skill  as  powder  makers. 

Thus  for  a  time  it  almost  seemed  the  Monobos,  gallantly 
cheered  on  by  Punungan  and  Usup,  had  a  fighting  chance. 

But  presently  the  one  Remington  breechloader  the  Moros 
had  began  to  tell. 

Down  sank  old  Punungan,  of  a  shot  that  ruined  the  feather 
head-dress  Tugan  had  been  expecting  to  fall  heir  to. 

Over  bowled  Usup,  but,  luckily  or  otherwise,  of  a  glancing 
ball  that  no  more  than  stunned  him. 

Then,  the  Monobos'  leader  gone  and  their  slender  stock  of 
arrows  and  blow-gun  darts  exhausted,  and  only  their  cbonta 
pointed  spears  remaining  with  which  to  withstand  the  gleam 
ing  wave  of  kris  and  campilan  blades  that  swept  in  upon — 
and  over — them,  soon  the  fight  was  ended. 

Many,  of  course,  slipped  away  through  the  Moro  lines,  deftly 
as  eels. 

But  when  Ishmael  closed  in  his  ranks  around  his  captives 
he  found  he  had  a  total  of  fourteen,  mostly  young  children, 
the  sort  the  Moros  prize  the  most. 

Central  among  them  upon  the  ground  still  lay  old  Usup, 
with  Lancona  crouched  wailing  beside  him. 

Over  them  stood  little  Esa. 

Fierce-eyed  as  a  young  tigress,  Esa  brandished  the  blade  of 
a  spear  whose  haft  had  been  shorn  by  a  campilan  blade. 

Plainly  she  was  in  no  mood  for  surrender. 

And  when  rough  old  Ishmael  himself  stepped  forward  to 
seize  her  and  pass  her  to  the  men  who  were  already  engaged 
in  binding  the  captives  in  pairs,  at  him  Esa  sprang  like  the 
young  wild  thing  she  was  and  viciously  stabbed  the  long 
spear  point  deep  into  his  shoulder. 

"Daughter  of  a  pig?'*  Ishmael  screamed,  and  raised  his  kris 
to  brain  her. 

But,  instead,  with  a  true  pirate's  greedy  second  thought, 


ESA'S  FIGHT  FOR  LIBERTY 

his  snaky  blade  clove  the  spear  point  and  disarmed  her,  and 
he  growled : 

"No!  Can't  afford  to  slit  you,  my  little  beauty!  Your  kind 
is  too  popular  in  Datu  Linta's  harem  to  leave  out  here  for 
the  bwtres  to  fatten  on.  It's  to  Datu  Linta  you  go,  and  may 
the  alligators  eat  all  his  young  if  he  is  not  generous  to  me  for 
bringing  him  such  a  prize." 

When  the  Moros  added  the  Monobo  wounded  to  the  Mono- 
bo  dead,  as  they  soon  added  all  hurt  past  trying  to  save  them 
for  slavery,  stark  along  the  MalbuPs  shore  or  scattered  among 
the  trees  that  held  their  nests  lay  forty-four  victims,  mostly 
warriors. 

But  for  their  victims  the  Moros  paid. 

Nine  of  the  twenty-six  pirates  that  made  up  his  vinta  crews 
were  already  en  route  to  whatever  Celestial  oasis  holds  their 
Prophet,  these  chiefly  the  prey  of  the  greedy  little  blow-gun 
darts,  and  six  others  were  nursing  spear  and  arrow  thrusts. 

But  what  did  this  matter  to  the  Datu?  His  swash-bucklers 
he  could  not  sell  or  trade  to  the  Chinos,  and  plenty  of  them 
remained  to  fill  the  vacancies  in  his  vinta  crews. 

The  dead  had  won  him  fourteen  slaves,  mostly  young;  not 
such  a  bad  enterprise  after  all ! 

Nor  from  the  ranks  of  IshmaePs  survivors  was  there  plaint 
of  their  losses. 

Was  not  the  Datu  their  lord  and  master? 

And  had  not  their  dead  perished  fighting  the  pigs  of  unbe 
lievers,  and  so  fairly  won  immortal  happiness  in  the  most 
beautiful  of  Allah's  Celestial  Gardens? 

What  better  could  any  honest  Moro  ask? 


[65] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
ALONE  WITH  THE  DEAD  AND  THE  VULTURES 

Before  the  binding  of  the  hands  of  the  captives  behind  their 
backs  and  leashing  them  together  with  vines,  in  groups  for 
transport  in  the  vintas,  Usup  was  on  his  legs,  little  the  worse 
of  the  shot  that  had  stunned  him,  and  he,  Esa,  Lancona  and 
old  Dalagan  were  leashed  together. 

As  for  Tugan,  alone  of  all  the  clan  hidden  in  the  family  nest 
in  the  tree  tops  when  the  Moros  rushed  Pugsan,  crippled  of 
the  wounds  he  had  received  in  the  fight  with  the  boar,  he  was 
overlooked,  or  rather  under-looked,  by  the  raiders. 

But  crippled  though  he  was,  brave  Tugan  had  done  his  bit, 
for  the  only  two  Moros  that  had  come  within  range  of  his 
blow-gun  made  a  pair  of  the  nine  that  did  no  paddling  during 
IshmaePs  return  voyage. 

There  were  no  lamentations  or  tears  when  Ishmael  had  his 
captives  bundled  into  the  vintas,  even  from  the  children. 

With  savage  stoicism,  all  accepted  the  situation  in  sullen 
silence,  all  except  Esa,  who  was  still  shivering  of  rage,  and 
who,  as  the  vintas  were  pushed  out  into  the  stream,  turned  on 
Ishmael  and  viciously  spit  at  him. 

"I'll  come  back,  when — when  I  like!" 

"Ah,  you  think  you  will,  you  little  beauty,"  Ishmael  sav 
agely  growled;  "well  it  won't  be  in  a  vinta;  when  you  come 
back  it  will  be  inside  the  belly  of  some  alligator  the  Datu  may 
throw  you  to,  if  your  temper  don't  get  sweeter!" 

"Better  so  than  let  your  Datu  make  me  do  anything  I  don't 
like,"  she  hissed  back  at  him. 

And  then  the  vintas,  released  to  the  grip  of  the  MalbuPs 
swift  current,  quickly  drifted  out  of  Tugan's  sight,  leaving 
him  alone  among  his  dead  clan-folk  and  the  cloud  of  vultures 
already  assembled  to  feast  upon  them,  but  powerless  to  pro 
tect  them  against  the  winged  black  horrors  that  haunt  the 
march  of  Moro  marauders. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

And  so  for  two  days  lay  Tugan,  famishing  up  aloft,  while 
below  the  vultures  gorged  themselves  to  surfeit  on  what  had 
been  his  kith  and  kin. 

A  sight  and  situation  to  drive  mad  any  but  a  savage ! 

But  with  him  his  marooning  until  his  clansmen  returned 
only  served  to  intensify  his  hatred  of  his  enemies  and  sharpen 
his  cunning. 

And  for  long  thereafter  the  youthful  chief  shifted  the  clan 
daily,  and,  with  a  few  of  his  young  warriors,  himself  haunted 
the  Moro  frontier  seeking  human  targets  for  his  blow-gun 
darts,  and  there  making  himself  such  a  scourge  that  shortly 
many  of  the  outer  Moro  plantations  had  to  be  abandoned. 

It  was  a  hard  life,  to  be  sure,  that  kept  his  people  lean  and 
famished,  but  was  he  not  evening  scores  and  dodging  all 
claimants  of  tribute? 


[68] 


CHAPTER  XIX 
VAIN  APPEALS  TO  BUSAU 

While  Saligan  IshmaeFs  vintas  drifted  down  the  Malbul, 
thinking  all  dozing  but  the  poperos  whose  paddles  kept  them 
in  the  main  current,  Esa  whispered  to  Usup: 

"But,  Usup,  where  are  Munowog  and  his  Limbings?  Where 
the  terrible  Busau?  Surely  you  have  invoked  them." 

"Yes,  Esa,  I  have,"  poor  old  Usup  replied.  "Pm  invoking 
them  now,  especially  Busau." 

"But  harder,  Usup;  do  it  harder;  promise  him  daily  offer 
ings  as  long  as  we  live  if  he  will  only  come  and  pick  these 
Moros'  eyes  out  while  the  swine  sleep. 

"And  Dewata!  Pray  him  to  stamp  his  foot  and  make  the 
earth  tremble  so  that  their  vintas  shall  be  overturned  and  we 
may  drag  them  down  with  us  to  feed  the  children  of  the  fath 
er  of  alligators. 

"Harder,  Usup!  Harder!" 

"Ah,  Esa,"  Usup  sadly  murmured,  "I  can  do  no  more — and 
I'm  beginning  to  fear  that  either  Dewata  is  very  angry  at 
Punungan  and  his  people  for  not  better  guarding  themselves 
against  our  enemies  and  His,  or  else  that  the  wonderful  magic 
of  their  Punditas  has  summoned  the  spirit  of  their  Kabung- 
suwan,  or  perhaps  their  Allah  himself,  to  defend  them  against 
our  deities. 

"Their  magic  is  terrible,  child;  think  of  it. 

"The  magic  that  can  give  them  boats  big  enough  to  hold  a 
village  and  weapons  that  roar  like  Dewata  s  voice  and  smoke 
like  Mt.  Apo,  may  it  not  also  suffice  to  withstand  even  Dewa 
ta  and  Busau?" 

"Pig  of  an  unbeliever!"  cried  IshmaePs  harsh  voice,  for  all 
the  time  he  had  been  cunningly  feigning  sleep,  "your  Dewata 
is  as  powerless  against  our  Balbal  as  are  your  bows  against 
our  guns  and  krises. 

[69] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"And  as  for  our  A  llab,  praised  be  His  name,  He  is  the  mightiest 
of  the  mighty. 

"Fortunate  for  you  that  you  conceded  His  almighty  su 
premacy,  for  had  you  hinted  otherwise  I'd  toss  you  to  the 
Hungry  Ones.  You'd  not  be  such  a  loss  that  the  Datu  would 
mind;  in  no  slave  mart  of  the  coast  would  your  old  carcass 
fetch  more  than  a/anega  of  rice  or  perhaps  a  fighting  chicken. 

"But  as  for  that  little  stinging  viper  alongside  of  you,  ho! 
ho!  the  Datu  should  be  generous,  for  she  will  bring  many 
times  her  weight  in  rice  and  beeswax,  corn  and  gutta,  to  say 
nothing  of  fighting  chickens  and  brass  cuspidors,  perhaps  to 
the  value  of  as  much  as  sixty  pesos." 

Upon  hearing  which,  Esa  ground  her  white  teeth  and  whis 
pered  to  herself: 

"Ha,  if  Usup  and  his  gods  fail,  always  there  is  Lancona — 
and  her  herbs  that  make  death  come,  quick  or  slow  as  she 
likes.  I  must  get  from  her  while  she  sleeps  some  of  the  tiny 
packets  she  always  carries  concealed  in  her  waist  cloth.  With 
Lancona's  venoms  I'll  defy  their  God's  magic." 

"But  tell  me,  pig,"  the  old  Saligan  continued,  "why  was 
your  village  so  poor?  My  men  could  find  no  stores  of  food  and 
yet  your  fields  should  give  you  plenty." 

"True,  Moro,"  Usup  answered,  "plenty  do  they  yield,  but 
when  we  don't  send  him  half,  Mambutu's  warriors  come  and 
leave  us  nothing.  Go  ask  Mambutu  why  we  are  poor." 

"Ask  him,"  grinned  Ishmael;  "why  pig,  he'll  be  himself  ask 
ing  quite  soon  enough  what's  become  of  his  Monobo  dogs  of 
Pugsan — and  perhaps  be  speaking  to  Datu  Linta  out  of  the 
mouths  of  the  thunder  guns  if  he  gets  wind  of  my  doings. 

"But  tell  me,  what  has  become  of  the  other  Monobos?  I've 
ranged  for  days  without  hearing  a  voice  or  getting  sight  of  a 
village.  Where  have  they  drifted?" 

"Ask  the  birds,  Moro.  How  should  I  know,  shut  in  our  little 
nook  of  the  great  forest?  Ask  the  birds  that  know  all  the 
most  secret  corners  of  the  forest  or  the  fish  that  cruise  its 
waters." 

"Liar  of  an  unbeliever!"  shouted  Ishmael;  "you  know  your 

[70] 


VAIN  APPEALS  TO  BUSAU 

forest  and  all  that  happens  there  better  than  the  Datu  knows 
his  rice  fields. 

"With  your  knotted  vines  and  bent  twigs,  your  signal  fires 
and  drum  beats,  only  Balbal  knows  more  than  you  of  what's 
going  on  in  the  forest." 

"Ask  your  Balbal,  then,  Moro,  if  he  knows  so  much,"  brave 
old  Usup  replied,  and  therefor  received  a  cruel  smash  across 
the  face,  with  the  flat  of  Ishmaers  kris,  that  left  his  mouth 
more  nearly  toothless  than  it  had  been  and  set  Esa  tugging 
fruitlessly  at  her  bonds. 

Already  the  slowing  of  the  river's  current  and  the  dwindling 
of  the  hills  told  of  near  approach  to  the  coastal  plain. 

They  were  nearing  Mambutu's  outpost,  held  by  his  hench 
man  Masulut.  Him  Ishmael  must  avoid,  or  be  sure  of  pre 
cipitating  trouble  with  Mambutu. 

So  at  the  little  rancheria  of  Tituan,  occupied  by  a  feudatory 
of  their  master,  Ishmael  landed  for  the  twelve  mile  march 
through  the  forest  to  the  town  of  Ganta,  on  the  Degao  River, 
whence  Datu  Linta  ruled. 

But  before  beginning  the  march  his  dead  bandits  must  be 
disposed  of.  And  there  they  were  buried,  each  wrapped  in 
folds  of  the  cleanest  white  linen,  each  snugly  stowed  beneath 
planks  whose  bottom  rested  at  one  side  of  the  body  and  upon 
the  bottom  of  each  grave  and  were  inclined  against  the  op 
posite  side  of  the  grave's  top,  and  upon  these  planks  the  earth 
was  piled — this  weird  manner  of  burial  a  legacy  from  their 
pagan  ancestors  which  the  Mohammedan  Punditas  had  never 
managed  to  take  from  them. 

For  it  is  still  a  current  belief  among  the  Moros  that  Balbal 
attacks  all  dead  and  tries  to  tear  their  hearts  out,  and  so  de 
prive  them  of  all  hope  of  a  future  life  in  the  Gardens  of  Allah. 

Hence  their  practice  to  leave  the  dead  free  space  wherein  to 
defend  themselves  against  Balbal' s  attacks. 

Indeed,  the  Balbal  of  the  Moros,  as  also  the  Assoung  of  the 
Filipinos,  is  virtually  a  full  blood  brother  to  the  Monobo  Bu- 
sau,  capable  of  assuming  an  infinite  variety  of  hideous  forms, 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

and  to  him  all  disasters  and  uncanny  happenings  are  attrib 
uted. 

And  so  strongly  do  they  still  hold  to  shreds  of  their  pagan 
ism  that  the  Mohammedan  oath  does  not  suffice  them.  Hence 
all  Moros  swear  "by  the  thirty  chapters  of  the  Koran,  and  if 
I  lie  may  the  alligators  eat  my  entrails  or  may  my  belly  burst, 
and  may  Balbal  tear  my  heart  out." 

The  prayers  of  the  Pundita  ended,  IshmaePs  little  column 
took  up  its  march  for  Ganta. 

The  journey  across  the  divide  to  the  Degao  River  was  with 
out  incident  until,  upon  near  approach  to  Ganta,  Ishmael  be 
gan  firing  salvos  that  soon  had  all  the  villagers  tumbling  out 
to  meet  the  successful  raiders. 

And  since  a  brief  inspection  was  about  all  the  labor  and  ex 
citement  Datu  Linta  could  venture  in  one  day,  he  ordered 
that  they  be  apportioned  among  the  villagers,  to  be  housed 
and  fed  for  the  night,  and  be  brought  before  him  in  the  mid- 
forenoon  of  the  next  day. 


[72] 


CHAPTER  XX 
BLINKING  SLAVERY  AND  POLYGAMY 

From  their  seat  on  the  top  of  the  walls  of  the  old  stone  fort, 
Morine  pointed  out  to  the  General  the  objects  of  interest  in 
the  wide  landscape. 

Miles  away  to  the  west,  the  bright  green  of  the  marshlands 
is  bordered  by  the  sapphire  of  Illana  Bay. 

To  the  north,  nestling  among  those  lofty  ranges,  lies  Lake 
Lanao,  around  whose  borders  dwell  the  most  independent 
and  warlike  of  the  Datus,  desperate  fighters,  but  as  a  rule, 
like  the  majority  of  the  Moros  of  the  Rio  Grande  valley,  in 
dustrious,  peaceful  people  when  left  alone. 

There  far  in  the  east,  now  hidden  in  clouds  but  usually  plainly 
visible  at  dawn,  towers  Mt.  Apo,  the  perpetually  smoking 
volcano,  around  whose  foot  and  whose  slopes  the  wild  Mono- 
bos  make  their  tree-top  homes. 

And  off  in  the  south  stands  the  great  volcano  Matutun,  now 
long  dormant,  that  figures  much  in  ancient  Mindanao  my 
thology  and  history. 

Yes,  and  right  at  their  feet,  pouring  in  and  out  with  the 
tides,  is  the  swirling,  turgid  current  of  the  Rio  Grande,  whose 
great  ten-mile-wide  valley  is  probably  second  to  none  but 
that  of  the  Saigon  in  fertility  and  ease  of  irrigation,  and 
thronging  in  this  valley  is  the  densest  Moro  population  the 
island  holds. 

Presently  the  General  began:  "Morine,  I  want  you  in  the 
service." 

"For  what  service,  General?"  asked  Morine. 

"As  Secretary  of  this  Province." 

"I  am  sorry,  General,  but  I  cannot  accept  the  post." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  as  Secretary,  General,  I'd  be  useless  to  you." 

"Nonsense;  man,  you  are  the  only  timber  available  fit  to  fill 
it.  You  know  these  people  and  have  their  confidence.  You 

[73] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

will  come  nearer  controlling  them  by  diplomacy  than  I  can 
with  troops." 

Perhaps  I  might,  if  I  had  freedom  and  authority  to  use  my 
own  judgment.  Make  me  governor,  General,  and  I  will  try." 

"But  I  can't  do  that,  Morine;  the  governor  of  the  province 
must  be  an  officer  of  the  army,  or  rank  at  least  as  captain." 

"Precisely;  and  there  is  just  the  trouble,  General.  Of  what 
value  my  knowledge  and  experience  while  subject  always  to 
the  well-intentioned  but  disastrous  overruling  of  a  superior 
who  is  totally  ignorant  of  the  language,  character  and  tradi 
tion  of  the  Moros?" 

"Doubtless  you  are  right,  Morine,  entirely  right,  but  mean 
time  I'm  hobbled  by  the  regulations. 

"But,  by  Jove!  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do;  I'll  appoint  Cap 
tain —Governor  of  the  Province  and  you  Secretary ;  and 

then,  by  ordering  him  to  detached  service,  you  as  Secretary 
will  be  left  in  undisputed  authority  over  these  beauties.  How 
will  that  do?" 

"Magnifico,  General.  And  you  can  count  on  me  to  do  my 
best." 

"Right,  Morine,  and  you  can  rely  on  my  whole-hearted  sup 
port.  Goodness  knows  your  job  is  one  the  best  man  might  fail 
to  draw  credit  from.  I'll  issue  the  necessary  orders  tonight." 

"What  do  you  desire  to  advise  me  as  to  policy,  General?" 

"Oh,  policy?  Simple  enough,  Morine,  in  theory,  though 
doubtless  you'll  find  it  hard  enough  to  carry  out  in  practice. 
Extend  our  influence  and  control  over  these  Sultans  and  Da- 
tus  as  rapidly  as  possible,  peacefully  where  you  can,  but  ex 
tend  it.  Of  course,  the  Administration  at  Washington  and 
the  home  public  in  general  will  expect  us  to  immediately 
abolish  slavery  and  polygamy.  That  s  hitting  them  hard,  but 
it  has  got  to  be  done." 

"Perhaps,  but — not  by  me,  General.  Why,  General,  you 
must  know  that  slavery  and  polygamy  are  interknit  with 
their  religion ;  for  both  they  regard  themselves  as  holding  Di 
vine  authority  and  sanction." 

"Nonsense,  Morine!  But,  yes,  I  dare  say;  these  yellow  men 

[74] 


BLINKING  SLAVERY  AND  POLYGAMY 

flash  up  out  of  their  alleged  sacred  scriptures  full  absolution 
for  all  their  pet  vices." 

"Ah,  General,  but  their  Koran  is  not  so  much  younger  than 
our  New  Testament,  and  the  one  is  quite  as  sacred  to  them 
as  is  the  other  to  us." 

"To  be  sure;  certainly.  But  all  the  same  they  must  be  made 
to  free  their  slaves  and  chuck  their  spare  wives.  No  less  than 
that  will  our  home  folk  tolerate. 

"Blink  at  slavery  and  a  plurality  of  wives  in  any  territory 
subject  to  the  authority  of  Uncle  Sam!  Why,  to  do  so  would 
be  to  throw  the  gaff  into  the  Administration  at  the  next 
elections,  to  a  certainty.  We've  got  to  get  busy  right  off  the 
bat  and  make  good." 

"Then,  General,  you  may  be  sure  the  Administration  is  due 
for  a  gaffing,  unless  you  of  the  War  Department  pull  the  wool 
over  Administration  eyes  or  the  Administration  can  cozen 
the  public  into  believing  it  is  accomplishing — the  impossible." 

"That's  a  word  we  don't  recognize  in  the  War  Department, 
Morine — impossible.  Orders  recognize  no  impossibilities." 

"Pardon  me,  General,  but  permit  me  to  assure  you  that  you 
are  up  against  nothing  less  than  the  impossible  here,  when 
you  propose  to  abolish  Moro  slavery  and  polygamy." 

"But  surely  we  can  issue  decrees  of  abolition,  make  a  bold 
start  and  score  some  progress." 

"Certainly,  General;  we  can  make  a  start,  tomorrow,  to 
night,  any  time,  and  we  can  make  progress,  but  I  solemnly 
assure  you  that  every  step  of  our  progress  will  be  over  the 
corpses  of  the  Moros  we  have  slain. 

"Yes,  General,  and  in  time  we  can  succeed — whenever  we 
can  manage  to  complete  the  virtual  extermination  of  the 
Moro  race.  Not  a  moment  earlier,  sir." 

"Bad  as  that,  is  it,  Morine?" 

"Absolutely  bad  as  that,  sir;  and  of  course  you  realize  what 
it  means,  the  way  it  must  be  accepted  by  the  world,  as  a  Re 
ligious  War,  Cross  against  Crescent !  And  that  don't  fit  well 
into  the  general  scheme  of  Twentieth  Century  Ideals,  does 
it?" 

[75] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"Not  notably  well,  I  must  say,  Morine.  But  what  the  devil 
are  we  to  dp?  What  can  you  suggest?" 

"If  the  trick  is  to  be  done  at  all,  sir,  it  must  be  through  the 
establishment  among  them  of  strictly  nonsectarian  schools 
which  shall  convey  no  hint  of  seducing  their  young  from  the 
religion  of  Islam,  by  relentlessly  crushing  the  marauding  ele 
ment  among  them  but  interfering  as  little  as  possible  in  any 
way  with  the  industrious  and  peaceable. 

"Thus,  through  much  time,  gradually  but  surely,  the  lessons 
taught  in  our  schools  and  the  object  lessons  had  from  obser 
vation  of  the  superiority  of  our  civilization  may  win  them 
over.'* 

"Education!  Educate  the  Moros  out  of  their  slavery  and 
polygamy !  That  means  educate  them  to  Christianity,  a  task 
of  generations." 

"Just  that.  Educate  them.  And  since  nowhere  in  the  world 
has  the  propaganda  of  Christian  missionaries  made  the  least 
headway  against  Mohammedanism,  or  the  sword  of  the  Cross 
accomplished  more  than  to  drive  into  more  remote  isolation 
the  sons  of  the  Prophet  whom  it  has  not  exterminated,  what 
remains  that  may  succeed  but  education?" 

"Why,  nothing,  apparently,  if  you  are  right,  as  I  dare  say 
you  are.  But  just  how  would  you  proceed?" 

"Deal  with  them  with  firmness,  with  the  iron  hand  that 
alone  they  will  respect,  but  with  justice  and  mercy,  and  ex 
tend  our  schools.  Begin  by  surprising,  thrashing  and  hum 
bling  the  pride  of  any  Datus  who  question  our  authority,  and 
then  hold  them  responsible  for  the  peace  of  their  districts. 
Leave  it  to  them  to  crush  the  marauders,  among  their  neigh 
bors  as  well  as  among  themselves.  And  don't  ask  questions. 
They  will  find  means  to  efface  any  we  tell  them  are  superfluous 
that  we  are  best  knowing  nothing  of." 

"You  mean— 

"Never  mind  what  I  mean,  sir,  please.  I  know  my  Moros. 
Their  ways  are  dark  Oriental  ways,  but  eminently  practical. 
They  are  great  at  short  and  easy  cuts,  but  they  get  there — 
often  without  any  actual  physical  cutting  at  all.  Sabe?" 


BLINKING  SLAVERY  AND  POLYGAMY 

And  then,  without  waiting  for  further  comment  by  the  Gen 
eral,  Morine  continued,  "And  what  of  my  staff,  sir?" 

"Why,  Morine,  for  the  present,  at  least,  you'll  have  to  be 
your  own  staff,  everybody  from  judge  to  clerk/' 

"But,  General,  I  understand  that  while  the  Administration 
has  decreed  the  suspension  of  military  laws  throughout  the 
Islands,  it  has  not  specifically  directed  the  application  of  the 
civil  code  in  the  Moro  Provinces.  Whatever  am  I  to  do  for 
law?" 

"Well,  since  we've  got  to  leave  these  Moros  their  gospel, 
why  not  deal  with  their  malefactors  according  to  their  own 
law  for  the  present?" 

"Yes,  sir,  that  will  do,  with  reservations.  Sometimes  the 
Koran  is  merciless.  I'd  hardly  manage  to  get  my  own  con 
sent  to  decree  the  stoning  to  death  of  an  adulteress." 

"Hardly!  But  it's  all  up  to  you,  for  I  have  faith  in  your  dis 
cretion.  But  it's  time  for  chow,  my  boy.  Let's  descend." 

The  return  was  made  in  silence.  But  as  they  were  entering 
the  town  the  General  laid  his  hand  on  Morine's  shoulder 
and  remarked : 

"Mr.  Acting  Governor,  I'm  very  much  afraid  you  are  right; 
to  save  the  Administration's  face,  it  will  have  to  be  a  case  of 
wool  pulling  or  cozening." 


[77] 


CHAPTER  XXI 
BALBAL  MASQUERADING  AS  A  TEMPTRESS 

Duly  the  next  morning  Ishmael  conducted  the  captives  to 
the  house  of  his  chief  and  there  paraded  them  for  Datu  Lin- 
ta's  inspection. 

AH  of  them,  old  and  young,  male  and  female,  were  stripped 
entirely  naked,  and  each  in  turn  the  shrewd  old  dealer  in  nu- 
man  flesh  examined  in  most  minute  detail,  with  all  the  cun 
ning  of  the  canniest  dealer  in  horseflesh  to  detect  alike  all 
merits  and  defects. 

One  by  one,  he  opened  their  mouths  to  make  sure  their  teeth 
were  sound,  poked  and  pinched  their  bodies,  carefully  felt 
and  flexed  the  muscles  of  their  arms  and  legs,  studied  their 
feet. 

Obscure  indeed  the  blemish  or  the  good  point  that  could  es 
cape  his  detection. 

And  as  he  proceeded  with  his  task,  from  time  to  time  he  dic 
tated  memoranda  respecting  each  to  the  Kali,  or  judge,  who 
attended  him. 

Next,  each  was  tested  at  running,  swimming,  load  carrying, 
canoe  paddling,  and  the  women  and  the  elder  girls  were  made 
to  try  their  deftness  at  the  rude  Moro  looms — for  any  such 
as  might  prove  so  handy  could  be  held  for  a  higher  price. 

Esa,  the  hawk-eyed  old  voluptuary  handled  and  considered 
with  obvious  interest  and  satisfaction,  evidently  indisposed 
to  part  with  her. 

But  when,  finally,  after  all  tests  were  finished  and  Esa  again 
stood  before  him,  streaming  with  sweat  and  heaving  of  breast 
of  the  violent  paddling  and  running  she  had  been  doing,  but 
teeth  tight  set,  face  hard  and  eyes  burning  with  resentment, 
the  Datu  turned  to  his  Kali  and  remarked : 

"Better  the  money  she'll  fetch  than  the  girl;  mark  her  for 
sale  with  the  rest. 

[79] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"She's  too  much  like  Ina  na  Manuk's  fighting  chicken,  Lan- 
ang — she'll  fight  till  she's  dead. 

"Looks  like  she  might  be  Balbal  masquerading  as  a  tempt 
ress — and,  by  the  Prophet,  a  beauty,  when  she  lets  that  alli 
gator  glare  out  of  her  eyes,  hard  to  let  go. 

"But,  mark  me,  Kali;  who  buys  her  pays  for  trouble!" 

And  then,  turning  to  Ishmael,  the  Datu  continued: 

"Well  done,  old  Saligan.  For  your  reward,  pick  any  of  the 
lot  you  like  except  this  little  one;  I'm  thinking  too  much  of 
you  to  let  you  hazard  your  life  trying  to  tame  her." 

"Thanks,  mighty  one,"  replied  Ishmael  with  a  grin;  "it  is 
your  wisdom  that  never  fails,  never  failed  and  does  not  fail 
now.  It  is  she  who,  after  the  fight  was  over,  gave  me  this  stab 
in  the  shoulder  that  has  this  left  arm  crippled." 

"Oh  ho!  What  did  I  say,  Kali?  What  did  I  say?  No  woman 
can  ever  fool  Linta." 

And  then,  again  addressing  Ishmael,  the  Datu  added,  "Take 
them  away,  son. 

"Quarter  them  where  they  shall  be  generously  fed  and  fat 
tened  for  the  next  Simbaum  [their  Sunday  market,  our  Fri 
day],  and  send  messengers  to  all  the  neighboring  Chino 
traders  and  the  rancherias  that  our  next  Ganta  Simbaum  will 
include  a  rarely  sound  lot  of  slaves. 

"Luckily,  we've  nearly  a  week  in  which  to  cram  their  bellies 
and  put  some  tallow  on  their  ribs." 

And  then,  a  heavy  day's  work,  for  him,  finished,  Datu  Linta 
summoned  the  bearer  of  his  Buyo  box,  refreshed  himself  from 
it's  stimulating  contents  and  withdrew  to  whatever  of  diver 
sion  or  repose  the  temper  of  his  harem  women  might  permit. 

The  markets  along  the  Rio  Grande  and  its  tributaries  are 
important  sources  of  revenue  to  the  Datus. 

All  offerers  of  wares,  Chinos  and  natives  alike,  are  taxed  for 
the  privilege  of  using  them. 

For  the  more  important  traders,  substantial  market  build 
ings  are  provided,  like  all  Moro  houses  raised  on  piles  seven 
to  ten  feet  above  the  ground,  well  roofed  with  grass  or  the 
leaves  of  the  Nipa  palm,  and  floored  with  bamboo,  but  other- 


BALBAL  MASQUERADING  AS  A  TEMPTRESS 

wise  open  to  free  circulation  of  the  air,  while  the  vendors  of 
the  produce  of  the  rancherias  squat  beneath  and  around  them. 

To  these  markets  come  all  the  products  of  gardens,  planta 
tion  and  jungle  and  the  wonderful  importations  of  the  Chi 
nos,  vegetables  of  all  sorts,  in  which  the  valley  is  rich;  rice, 
coffee,  gutta,  beeswax,  vejuca  (the  vines  used  as  ropes  and 
cordage),  hemp,  eggs  and  chickens;  carabaos,  wild  and  broke 
to  the  yoke;  horses  and  goats;  fighting  chickens,  with  which 
the  Moros  find  the  most  popular  of  their  diversions  and  make 
the  subject  of  their  heaviest  gambling;  limes,  lemons,  durians, 
managoes,  bananas  and  cocoa-nuts;  fish  of  many  varieties; 
alligators'  eggs  and  teeth,  the  former  as  much  loved  for  their 
flavor  as  the  latter  for  their  attraction  as  ornaments;  native- 
made  weapons,  pottery,  mats,  baskets,  krises  and  campilans; 
canoes,  made  from  superb  mahogany  trunks;  bamboo  for 
house  and  balsa  (raft)  construction,  and  the  gorgeously  color 
ed  and  sumptuously  soft  silken  maloongs  woven  in  native 
looms;  calico  prints  from  Massachusetts;  linen  from  Ireland; 
enamel  and  hardware  from  Germany;  thread,  needles,  but 
tons  and  trinkets  from  England;  marvellous  silks,  delicious 
teas,  and  the  fascinating  Black  Poison  that  makes  sleep  come 
from  China. 

Hundreds,  often  some  thousands,  throng  in  to  these  "Sun 
day"  markets,  keen  for  their  bargains,  agog  for  their  gossip 
of  up  and  down  river  news  of  raiding  and  slaving,  of  the  bick 
erings  and  the  warrings  of  the  Datus  and  the  scandals  of  their 
harems,  all  fetching  their  doughtiest  fighting  chickens  and 
madly  gambling  on  them. 

Ah!  Infinite  are  the  attractions  of  the  Rio  Grande  Sim- 
baums  for  the  Moros. 

And  that  of  Ganta  was  among  the  greatest  of  them  all. 

For  Linta  was  one  of  the  most  powerful  of  all  the  Datus,  as 
one  of  the  few  who  had  not  fallen  victim  to  the  use  of  opium, 
and  hence  maintained  relative  independence  of  the  Chino 
traders  and  more  masterful  control  over  his  territory  than 
did  most  of  his  neighbors. 

In  his  youth  himself  a  reckless  and  ruthless  raider,  to  him 

[81] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

had  flocked  in  large  numbers  the  bolder  and  wilder  spirits 
from  among  the  ranks  of  the  more  indolent  and  less  enter 
prising  Datus. 

All  came  in  whom  still  surged  hottest  the  pirate  blood  that 
for  centuries  had  made  their  forefathers  the  terror  of  the  East 
ern  Seas  and  that  ill  disposed  them  for  the  peaceful  pursuits 
of  agriculture. 

Locally  they  were  known  as  Maratuns,  or  Bad  Men. 

But,  naturally  tall  of  mental  as  well  of  physical  stature, 
broad  of  mind  as  of  shoulders,  strong  of  character  as  of  hand, 
Datu  Linta  had  come  to  realize  that  larger  and  more  certain 
profits  were  to  be  won  by  peaceful  agriculture  than  by  slave 
hunting  and  trading,  and  most  largely  concentrated  his  own 
energies  to  that  end. 

This,  of  course,  was  little  to  the  liking  of  the  Maratuns;  but 
since,  while  he  no  longer  led  them  or  planned  and  directed 
their  raids,  he  never  sought  to  restrain  them  otherwise  than 
by  advice,  tight  henchmen  of  his  they  stuck,  ever  ready  to  do 
his  bidding. 

However  heavy  their  raiding  hands  might  fall  on  any  of  the 
territory  of  other  Datus,  his  they  always  respected. 

And  hence  it  was  that  his  fat  lands  were  heavy  with  crops, 
his  Simbaums  always  thronged,  and,  what  with  the  spoils 
brought  by  his  more  immediate  henchmen,  like  Ishmael,  and 
the  offerings  of  the  Maratuns,  slaves  were  never  lacking.  Con 
stantly,  moreover,  was  his  power  extending,  for  any  time 
either  his  own  subjects  or  those  of  neighboring  Datus  needed 
a  hammering,  the  Maratuns  were  ready  to  temporarily  aban 
don  their  favorite  industry  of  cattle,  horse  and  carabao  steal 
ing  of  their  own  initiative  for  the  better  opportunities  offered 
under  warrant  of  his  authority. 


[82] 


CHAPTER  XXII 
ON  THE  SLAVE  BLOCK 

The  week  intervening  before  Datu  Linta's  next  Simbaum 
was  altogether  the  most  luxurious  most  of  his  Monobo  cap 
tives  were  ever  again  to  know. 

They  must  be  fattened  to  win  high  bidding,  precisely  as  the 
beasts  that  are  the  sleekest  and  heaviest  sell  highest  for  the 
shambles. 

All  rich  foods  they  could  stow  in  their  bellies,  and  so  con 
vert  to  fat  and  muscle,  would  be  certain  to  fetch  the  Datu  a 
higher  price  than  if  offered  raw  from  baskets. 

And  hence,  since  heavy  feeding  is  an  occupation  that  irks  no 
savage,  and  future  anxieties  dwindle  with  such  of  them  as 
have  so  heavily  fed,  the  week  passed  happily  enough  with  our 
tree  folk  of  Pugsan,  the  more  for  that  they  were  free  to  drift 
about  the  town  at  will,  startled  here  and  sobered  there  by 
one  or  another  of  its  wonders. 

All  weeks  pass  quickly,  the  happier  the  quickest,  so  to  our 
Monobos  it  must  have  seemed  no  time  at  all  before  Simbaum 
day  arrived  and  they  were  marched  through  the  crowds  that 
thronged  Ganta  to  the  market  place. 

And  a  great  crowd  it  was  that  had  assembled. 

For  the  three  preceding  days,  long  reaches  of  the  Rio  Grande, 
the  Degao  and  their  tributaries  had  been  a-clutter  with  vin 
tas,  packed  with  bright-habited  folk. 

The  vintas  were  piled  with  produce  and  merchandise  and 
noisy  with  song  and  jest. 

No  roads  that  lead  to  Derby  day  could  beat  those  Moro 
waterways  for  kaleidoscopic  variety  and  merriment. 

Gaily  they  paddled  and  loudly  sang. 

And  deafening  to  all  and  terrible  to  the  Monobos  were  the 
salvos  fired  from  old  Tower  muskets  as,  one  by  one  and  in 
groups,  the  vintas  neared  Ganta. 

Thus  by  dawn  of  market  day  several  hundred  vintas  lay 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

along  the  Degao  sands,  like  long  ranks  of  dozing  alligators, 
their  crews  and  cargoes  domiciled  in  the  town. 

And  since  wares  must  be  freely  exposed  to  stir  desire  for 
them,  it  was  quite  in  the  gray  dawn  that  Saligan  Ishmael  as 
sembled  his  captives  and  drove  them  to  the  market,  jostled 
and  familiarly  handled  along  the  way  by  intending  buyers. 

And  once  come  to  the  market  place,  naturally  the  shrewd 
old  Saligan  had  prearranged  for  their  conspicuous  exhibition 
in  the  favorite  arena  of  the  Moros,  the  Ganta  cockpit,  in  whose 
center,  where  their  feathered  gladiators  were  wont  to  do  bat 
tle,  the  Monobos  were  placed  on  a  raised  platform  he  had 
built  to  receive  them. 

Once  there,  all  were  stripped  stark  naked. 

And  into  the  cockpit  and  around  them  surged  the  populace, 
all  afire  with  curiosity  to  see  the  new  lot  of  wild  ones  and  many 
alert  for  bargains,  the  latter  freely  handling  them  from  crown 
to  feet. 

For  slaves,  like  beasts,  cost  money,  and  no  buyer  of  the  halt 
or  crippled  may  profit. 

Here  a  Moro  who  needed  a  field  hand  or  waterman  would  be 
testing  the  muscles  of  a  man  or  lad,  and  there  a  Chino  trader, 
they  the  canniest  buyers  of  the  lot,  would  be  turning  a  girl 
around,  pinching  her  breasts  and  looking  at  her  teeth. 

Thus  the  morning  wearily  dragged  on  for  the  dazed  cap 
tives  until,  about  10  o'clock,  it  pleased  Datu  Linta  to  come, 
in  true  Moro  state,  to  the  market  place,  attended  by  the  Kali, 
his  sword,  umbrella  and  Buyo  box  bearers  and  a  picturesque 
if  not  a  goodly  train  of  his  feudatory  chiefs. 

Arrived  there  and  lined  up  in  the  cockpit  alongside  of  the 
platform  that  held  his  offering  of  slaves,  Linta's  drums  were 
beaten  and  the  throng  massed  closer. 

The  slave  sale  was  on. 

Firstthe  Kali  announced  that  the  day's  offering  of  slaves  must 
ever  remain  notable  to  all  frequenters  of  the  Ganta  market. 

Surely  never  in  the  past,  and  probably  never  again,  would 
it  be  their  privilege  to  bid  on  such  an  exceptionally  sound, 
healthy  lot. 


ON  THE  SLAVE  BLOCK 

Nearly  all  were  young,  both  male  and  female. 

And  then  the  girls ! 

Look  at  the  young  girls,  several  shortly  marriageable! 

Especially  note  this  daughter  of  the  Monobo  Lukus! 

A  wild  rose ! 

The  sweetest  flower  ever  come  to  them  out  of  the  Mt.  Apo 
jungles. 

A  princess  of  her  people ! 

A  prize  to  make  the  most  miserly  Datu  cut  the  strings  of  his 
money  bags  and  give  of  their  contents  until  he  had  parted 
with  her  weight  in  pesos! 

Weight?  But  was  not  her  weight  wonderful  for  a  youngster? 

Look  at  her  swelling  arms  and  legs — not  a  river  town  could 
boast  their  equal ! 

Andherbreasts,roundandhardandsweetasyoungcocoanuts! 

Ha! 

If  the  Kali  was  not  mistaken,  here  was  a  girl  fit  to  make  the 
most  fascinating  harem  favorite  in  all  Mindanao  quite  outdo 
herself  to  hold  her  precedence  with  her  lord ! 

As  for  terms,  the  Datu  Linta  would  deign  to  accept  payment 
for  purchases  either  in  pesos  (Mexican  silver  dollars),  in  horses, 
carabaos  or  goats;  in  chickens,  fighting  or  domestic,  or  in 
brass  cuspidors  of  the  acknowledged  good  brands. 

The  Kali's  boost  of  the  Datu's  wares  and  his  announcement 
of  terms  finished,  one  of  Linta's  old  Saligans  climbed  upon 
the  platform,  and  the  auction  was  on. 

First  he  offered  Usup. 

But  for  his  worn  old  carcass  the  bidding  was  anything  but 
spirited. 

Think  of  it! 

It  was  pathetic. 

And  he  the  most  powerful  of  all  his  clansmen,  the  most 
learned  sa&to  of  his  race,  divinest  player  of  the  kuteehapee  of 
all  their  Lukus,  past  master  in  all  the  mysteries  and  magic  of 
their  priestcraft,  Dewatas  very  voice,  through  which  alone 
He  spoke  to  the  clansmen,  widely  experienced  alike  in  the 
magic  of  the  Moros  and  the  Paddies ! 

[85] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

But  here  to  these  bargainers  in  human  flesh,  brains,  knowl 
edge  did  not  count  even  the  value  of  the  exhausted  betel  nut 
they  spat  through  their  blackened  teeth. 

It  was  youth  and  health  and  strength  they  wanted,  muscles 
to  charm  or  muscles  that  would  propel  canoes  and  carry  heavy 
loads. 

But  that's  the  way  of  the  world,  of  a  larger  world  than  that 
of  the  Moros,  of  all  the  world. 

Sold  cheap,  when  sold  at  all,  ever  are  the  old! 


[86] 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
SOLD 

So  little  is  time  money  among  the  Moros  that  often  will  they 
spend  days  dickering  over  the  price  of  a  chicken,  and  not  a 
fighting  one  at  that. 

But  obviously  hopeless  must  prove  the  task  of  trying  to  turn  a 
comparative  decrepit  like  Usup  into  anything  like  real  money. 

So  very  shortly  trie  auctioneer  knocked  him  down  to  Butu, 
a  rich  planter  and  trader  of  Lamtag,  one  of  Linta's  villages 
on  the  lower  Degao,  who  loosened  up  to  a  reckless  bid  equal 
to  three  dollars  and  twenty  cents ! 

One  by  one,  the  men  and  the  boys  were  put  up,  the  whining 
voice  of  the  old  auctioneer  wheedling  as  long  as  chance  re 
mained  of  getting  more,  and  in  turn  they  were  sold,  some  of 
the  younger  lads  fetching  handsome  prices  that  materially 
increased  the  Datu's  mixed  job  lot  of  winged,  hoofed  and 
coined  assets. 

Come  to  the  women,  Lancona  was  the  first  offering. 

When,  oh  shame  of  shames,  the  wise  Lancona,  doubtless  a 
shrewder  doctor  than  any  the  Moros  could  boast,  still  far 
under  forty  and  active  as  a  youngster,  fell  cheap  to  Ina  na 
Manuk,  the  wife  of  the  Butu  who  had  bought  Usup. 

A  pittance  in  cuspidors  she  brought  that  totaled  value  scarcely 
double  that  paid  for  him ! 

Others  were  put  up,  and  on  wearily  the  slave  auction  drag 
ged;  as  for  the  women  there  was  far  keener  competition,  and 
competition  was  the  hint  to  the  auctioneer  to  tirelessly  con 
tinue  his  alternate  wheedlings  of  his  audience  and  praisings 
of  his  wares. 

Last  of  all  came  Esa,  his  piece  de  resistance,  the  prize  pack 
age  of  the  bag  of  slaves. 

Gingerly  the  bidding  started. 

In  terms  of  chickens,  and  in  terms  of  humble  egg  layers  at 
that! 

[87] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

And  yet  it  had  been  apparent  that  half  a  dozen  Chino  trad 
ers,  the  accredited  buyers  of  two  neighboring  Datus  and  a 
number  of  others  of  the  richer  Moros,  were  coveting  her  and 
certain  not  to  let  her  go  at  any  small  figure. 

But  no  bargains  fall  to  brash  bidders. 

And  who  knows  that  better  than  those  who  have  trained 
themselves  to  fatten  off  the  slave  markets? 

Gingerly  the  bidding  started. 

But  steadily  it  rose — from  chickens  to  cuspidors,  to  beasts, 
and  finally  to  money,  real  money,  to  bright,  silver  pesos. 

And  Datu  Linta  hugged  himself  with  satisfaction. 

Meantime  the  yellow  men  and  the  brown  quarreled  bitterly. 

Each  claimed  to  be  the  namer  of  each  step  of  advance  in  the 
bidding. 

And  the  auctioneer  shrewdly  settled  all  disputes  by  recog 
nizing  as  the  real  raiser  of  a  bid  one  most  likely  to  remember 
and  compensate  the  service  when  the  sale  was  finished. 

Nor  was  bidding  limited  to  the  men. 

Ina  na  Manuk,  wife  of  Butu,  a  lady  not  only  of  quality  but 
of  rare  distinction  throughout  southern  Mindanao,  as  will 
shortly  appear,  showed  signs  of  having  entered  the  competi 
tion  to  stay,  certainly  for  a  tight  finish  with  the  best  of  them, 
perhaps  to  a  win. 

Indeed,  her  eagerness  seemed  to  be  bordering  so  close  on 
recklessness,  that  at  length  Butu  drew  near  and  whispered: 

"But  Ina,  in  the  name  of  the  Prophet,  what  can  you  be  think 
ing  of? 

"You're  as  crazy  as  a  wounded  carabao  hunting  it's  hunter. 

"We  can't  afford  to  bid  against  the  agents  of  the  Datus  and 
those  Chinos,  for  they  reach  better  markets  than  can  we. 

"You've  already  bid  her  past  any  price  at  which  we  could 
hope  to  profit." 

"Oh,  have  I,"  Ina  na  Manuk  answered,  "Well,  if  I've  got  to 
go  farther  to  get  her,  I've  only  just  started. 

"That's  a  rare  one,  and  no  matter  what  I  pay  for  her,  she 
shall  bring  us  more  profit  than  you  make  in  a  six  month  off 
your  tienaa. 

[88] 


SOLD 

"Before  I'm  done  with  her,  I'll  make  our  Datu,  the  great 
Linta  himself,  want  her  so  badly  that  he  shall  pay  me  several 
times  any  price  I  now  pay  him." 

Still,  Ina  knew  her  way  about  auctions,  as  about  most  other 
forms  of  trafficking,  and  was  always  careful  not  to  press  the 
pace  needlessly,  bidding  seldom,  only  when  the  last  bid  hung 
uncontested  dangerously  long. 

Slower  grew  the  bidding  and  longer  the  auctioneer's  wheedles. 

One  and  another  dropped  out,  as  their  respective  limits  were 
reached  and  passed,  until  finally  only  Ina  and  a  Chino  trader 
remained  in  the  running. 

The  Chino's  yellow  cheeks  were  paled  to  gray  putty  hue  of 
the  excitement  of  the  contest. 

At  length  he  mustered  nerve  to  raise  Ina's  last  bid  to  ninety 
pesos. 

Ina,  confident  her  time  was  come,  instantly  countered  with 
a  level  hundred,  plus  Lanang,  her  favorite  fighting  chicken, 
the  champion  winged  gladiator  of  all  the  Moro  cockpits, 
victor  over  all  the  doughtiest  ever  brought  against  him,  en 
vied  of  all  and  previously  held  priceless  by  Ina  na  Manuk 
herself. 

At  this  the  Chino  turned  away,  angrily  emitting  a  string  of 
heathen  oaths  that,  fortunately,  none  of  the  faithful  under 
stood. 

Esa  was  sold. 

And  as  Butu  and  Ina  na  Manuk  led  away  their  three  pur 
chases,  Esa,  Lancona  and  Usup,  certain  it  was  that  every  last 
Moro  of  the  throng  was  firmly  convinced  that  poor  Butu  had 
a  crazy  wife  on  his  hands. 

For  could  not  Lanang  be  relied  on  to  earn  for  the  Datu 
more  than  the  cost  of  the  two  fairest  favorites  of  his  harem ! 

Still,  Ina  was  a  lady  so  notable  for  knowing  her  way  about 
that  the  Kali  was  prompted  to  whisper  to  Datu  Linta: 

"By  the  Prophet,  O  mighty  one,  either  Ina  na  Manuk  is  be 
witched  by  Balbal  or  else,  which  I'm  fearing  is  far  more  likely, 
something  has  taken  the  fight  out  of  Lanang. 

[89] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

And  yet  he  was  wrong,  was  the  wise  Kali. 

In  both  respects. 

He,  along  with  all  the  others,  had  simply  underweighed  Ina 
na  Manuk's  faith  in  her  judgment  and  her  insatiable  procliv 
ity  for  gambling! 


[90] 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
TONY  TRIGG 

The  Commanding  General  made  no  mistake  in  his  faith  in 
Morine.  No  more  was  he  gone  than  the  new  Governor  began 
sending  out  spies,  chiefly  one  sort  of  trader  or  another.  He 
must  know  the  doings  among  the  Datus,  for,  friendly  as  most 
of  them  were  to  him,  there  were  few  whose  word  he  could  trust. 
And  all  were  such  past  masters  in  dissimulation  that  every 
thing  they  told  him  must  be  checked. 

Shortly  his  agents  brought  him  word  that  Linta  and  Tele- 
coco  were  busy  making  powder  and  strengthening  their  forts. 

But  it  was  no  surprise  to  him  when,  shortly  thereafter,  these 
two  worthies  appeared  in  state  at  his  headquarters  with  warm 
est  protestations  of  friendship,  and  calling  him  Lusud-Satyan, 
brother  of  the  same  belly. 

Then,  seated  on  their  mats  before  him,  mouths  charged 
with  betel-nut  and  cuspidors  handy,  the  mental  fence  be 
gan,  on  their  part  chiefly  designed  to  learn  his  purposes  and 
what  he  knew  of  happenings  at  their  rancherias. 

But  notwithstanding  there  lay  on  his  table  full  plans  of  the 
forts  they  were  strengthening  and  memoranda  of  the  men 
and  arms  each  had  available  to  hold  them,  Morine  received 
them  with  every  show  of  friendship  and  confidence.  And  to 
them  he  talked  frankly. 

Their  authority  and  religion?  Both  should  be  respected. 
But  they  must  maintain  peace  and  order  in  their  respective 
districts,  stop  all  marauding,  even  against  the  hill  tribes. 

Their  slaves  and  wives?  Well,  the  'Mergans  deplored  both 
practices,  but,  since  they  were  a  part  of  the  Moro  religion, 
would  not  interfere  with  them. 

Taxes?  Oh,  the  'Mergans  were  rich  and  had  no  need  to 
squeeze  the  people.  Perhaps  there  may  be  some  small  levies 
to  improve  the  health  of  the  Datus'  own  towns  and  build 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

schools,  but  none  they  need  worry  about,  and  all  funds  so 
raised  would  be  spent  for  their  benefit. 

The  schools?  Ah,  he  should  explain  that  it  was  the  custom 
of  the  'Mergans  to  educate  all  their  people,  to  teach  them  to 
read  and  write,  so  that  their  knowledge  may  be  extended  by 
study. 

But  the  slaves,  the  Datus  interrupted;  surely  it  was  not 
proposed  to  teach  slaves? 

Ah,  yes;  the  'Mergans  made  no  exception.  All  would  be 
expected  to  go  to  the  schools,  children  of  the  Chinos  and  of 
slaves  as  well  as  those  of  the  Moros  and  their  Datus  and  Kalis. 

And  right  here,  by  the  suspicious  glances  they  exchanged, 
the  shrewd  Governor  realized  that  he  confronted  a  check,  at 
the  very  outset,  of  the  one  single  step  he  contemplated  to 
ward  their  uplift  and  ultimate  control. 

They  doubted  his  motives. 

Either  he  was  planning  to  seduce  their  children  away  from 
the  religion  of  their  fathers  or  else,  and  that  seemed  to  them 
a  certainty,  he  was  scheming  through  his  schools  to  implant 
in  their  slaves  the  seed  of  revolt ! 

But  of  his  knowledge  of  the  line  of  their  reasoning  the  Gov 
ernor  gave  no  hint.  Too  well  he  knew  that  argument  with 
them  would  be  useless.  They  must  be  disciplined  a  bit,  and 
humbled.  Then  the  going  with  them  would  be — perhaps  not 
easy,  but  certainly  less  hard. 

So  ultimately  the  conference  ended  with  mutual  protesta 
tions  of  the  warmest  friendship,  notwithstanding  the  Datus 
were  fully  resolved  to  fight  his  school  scheme  to  a  finish  and 
Morine's  mind  was  made  up  to  give  them  a  sound  drubbing 
just  as  soon  as  he  could  conveniently  arrange  it. 

And  then  the  Datus  took  to  their  vintas  and  were  soon  lost 
in  the  pearly  haze  that  shrouds  tropical  rivers  and  fields. 

That  night,  Morine  sat  late  in  conference  with  the  captain 
commanding  the  Cotabato  Constabulary,  occupied  with 
plans  unlikely  to  pleasure  either  Telecoco  or  Linta. 

An  abler  aide  or  fitter  mate  the  Governor  could  scarcely 
have  had. 

[92] 


TONY  TRIGG 

Indeed,  they  were  much  of  the  same  kidney,  in  many  re 
spects. 

The  main  difference  between  them  was  that  Constabulary 
Captain  Tony  Trigg  was  always  perfectly  content  to  take  his 
world  as  he  found  it,  so  long  as  there  was  enough  doing  to 
keep  his  guns  from  rusting. 

Degenerate  or  regenerate,  any  old  neck  of  the  world's  woods 
was  good  enough  for  him  that  offered  plenty  of  opportunities 
to  put  up  a  man's  fight. 

By  preference,  Captain  Tony  opened  all  arguments  with 
powder  and  finished  them  with  steel. 

Few  of  the  pearls  of  his  wisdom  were  ever  in  evidence,  ex 
cept  such  as  issued  from  the  muzzle  of  his  .45  when  he  thought 
they  were  needed. 

And  yet  it  would  be  an  error  to  assume  that  Captain  Trigg 
was  bloodthirsty. 

Nothing  of  the  sort. 

No  such  auburn-curled,  laughing-eyed,  rollicky  stalwart 
as  he  could  belong  in  such  reprehensible  category. 

It  was  simply  that — well,  where  there  needs  must  be  fight 
ing,  he  just  loved  to  get  into  it,  that  was  all. 

And  of  fighting  he  had  certainly  seen  a  lot,  for  a  youngster 
of  little  more  than  thirty,  under  several  flags,  and  some,  his 
mates  had  gotten  hints,  perhaps  under  no  flag  at  all. 

Which  was  about  all  his  closest  intimates  knew  of  him.  But 
what  mattered  where  one  had  for  mate  such  a  glutton  for 
hardships  and  hazards,  to  whom  the  toughest  campaigning 
and  most  desperate  battling  were  the  frolics  he  best  loved! 
Especially  when  no  worn  friend  of  his  could  stumble  under 
any  burden  Trigg  could  contrive  to  shift  to  his  own  shoulders, 
the  heavier  the  burden  the  gayer  his  jests! 

When,  after  few  interruptions  from  Captain  Tony,  the  Gov 
ernor  had  finished  detailing  his  plan  for  the  surprise  of  the 
Datus,  for  some  time  the  former  sat  silent,  smiling  and  slowly 
nodding  his  curly  head.  Finally,  the  Governor  asked: 
^Well,  Captain?" 
"Why,  d— n  it,  Morine — pardon,  sir,  I  mean  Governor,  I — " 

[93] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"Oh,  hell!  Tony,  cut  out  the  official  frills  when  we're  by  our 
selves,"  Morine  broke  in. 

"Sure,  if  you  say  so,  Joe.  Why,  I  was  about  to  remark  that 
you're  a  Christmas  present  to  me." 

"How  so?  What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  as  a  K.  O.;  as  a  commanding  officer  you're  a  rosy 
peach.  Sure  to  be  something  doing  for  Tony  right  along. 
Never  hoped  for  any  such  luck.  Thought  the  General  would 
plunk  into  this  billet  some  lazy,  rummy  pot  that  needs  an  I. 
C.  branded  on  his  rump  and  orders  to  right-about  out  of  the 
service." 

Instantly  Mprine's  eyes  hardened  in  a  way  that  drove  the 
smile  from  Trigg's  face,  and  he  slowly  remarked : 

"Don't  you  be  too  d — d  sure,  Tony.  If  left  to  my  way,  there'll 
be  little  fighting  in  this  Province." 

"No  fighting,  man!  Why,  it's  the  only  diet  Moro  stomachs 
can  digest,  is  fighting.  They're  hungry  for  it,  and  it's  up  to  us 
to  feed  'em  what  they  want,  ain't  it?" 

And  when  Morine's  only  answer  was  a  grave  shake  of  the 
head,  Trigg  persisted: 

"But  why  little  fighting?" 

"Why?"  Morine  replied,  in  almost  a  whisper;  "why,  Tony? 
Because  fighting  Moros  is  little  short  of  murder.  To  be  sure 
they're  superb  battlers;  got  to  kill  'em  to  stop  'em." 

"But  how  murder  then,  man?" 

"That's  just  the  trouble,  Tony;  they've  got  the  nerve  to 
make  them  a  terrible  enemy  against  the  best  troops  in  the 
world,  but  they  lack  the  arms.  Of  what  avail  their  krises  and 
campilan  blades  against  our  Springfields  and  machine  guns? 
None,  only  they  don't  know  it,  at  least  won't  know  it  to 
start  with,  and  after  they've  learned  won't  care.  That's  the 
hell  of  it !  Shooting  down  brave  men  like  that  is  no  fit  work 
for  you  or  me,  Tony." 

"By  God,  but  you're  right.  Never  thought  of  it  just  that 
way  before." 

"Sure,  I'm  right.  Of  course  an  officer  untrained  to  bush  fight 
ing  can  easily  get  his  entire  command  slit  to  ribbons  by  these 

[94] 


TONY  TRIGG 

beauties;  but,  bar  a  few  slashes  now  and  then  from  one  of 
their  mad  rushes  out  of  ambush,  for  the  command  of  an  of 
ficer  with  the  experience  you  or  I  have  had,  they're  easy  as 
grouse,  no?" 

"It  would  sure  be  our  own  fault  if  our  men  ever  got  cut  up 
much.  Only  I'm  thinking  most  of  the  boys  would  take  grouse 
for  preference — or  Zulus,  or  even  Japs.  A  mad  Moro  swing 
ing  a  flamy  kris  or  a  great  two-handed  meat  axe  of  a  campilan 
is  a  little  the  unprettiest  thing  in  the  way  of  two-legged  game 
I  know  of.  For  you  never  can  tell  when  they  won't  get  to  you, 
and  once  come  hand  to  hand  you'll  admit  all  the  advantage 
is  theirs.  That's  what  makes  me  love  'em." 

"Yes,  yes,  Tony;  hand  to  hand,  they've  the  best  of  it,  and 
I'll  admit  they're  the  grandest  stalking  on  earth;  don't  dare 
drop  your  guard  a  second  when  out  among  hostile  Moros,  but 
— good  God,  what  show  have  they  against  us?  None,  just 
none,  Tony." 

"What's  your  game,  then?" 

"Jolt  a  few  of  them  and  see  if  I  can't  bluff  them  into  doing 
our  policing  and  battling  for  us." 

"Well,  I'll  be  d — d!  That  sounds  like  a  long  gamble.  And 
their  slavery  and  bunches  of  wives?" 

"Blink  all  that  and  see  if  we  can't  get  an  under  hold  on  them 
through  our  schools." 

And  when,  shortly,  Capt.  Trigg  was  stumbling  through  the 
darkness  to  his  quarters,  he  growled : 

"Well,  Tony,  you're  'going!  going!  gone!' — to  a  d — d  school 
master!  Sold;  just  d — d  well  sold! ' 


[95] 


CHAPTER  XXV 
SLAVE  TO  MOTHER  OF  CHICKENS 

Esa,  Lancona  and  Usup  were  most  fortunate  in  the  master 
and  mistress  to  whom  they  passed  from  Datu  Linta's  slave 
block. 

Butu  and  Ina  na  Manuk  were  among  the  most  enlightened 
and  humane  of  all  the  Moros. 

This  statement  may  sound  paradoxical  when  we  have  to  ad 
mit  that  they  were  two  of  the  most  conspicuous  devotees  of 
cock  fighting  in  all  Mindanao. 

Still  it  is  true. 

Yet  Ina  na  Manuk  was  so  madly  addicted  to  the  sport  and 
such  a  reckless  gambler  at  it  that  Butu,  rich  as  he  was  of  his 
farming  and  trading,  was  never  free  from  anxiety  she  might 
not  one  day  reduce  the  family  to  poverty,  and  was  ever  pleading 
with  her  to  use  more  of  the  same  prudence  he  did  in  staking 
against  strange  winged  champions. 

But  to  no  purpose. 

The  love  of  the  game  and  indulgence  in  its  excitement  was 
ingrained  into  her  from  childhood. 

She  was  daughter  of  a  Sultan  and  Pundita  whose  territory 
included  a  goodly  area  of  the  fertile  shores  of  Lake  Gusan. 

Her  father  and  mother  were  passionately  fond  of  cock  fight 
ing. 

And  she  herself  was  yet  a  child  when  christened  from  nothing 
less  than  the  mad  devotion  for  the  game  she  early  manifested. 

Thus  it  happened  that,  while  by  custom  no  Moro  father  or 
mother  bears  other  name  than  that  of  their  first-born,  as 
"Ana  na  John,"  Father  of  John,  or  "Ina  na  John,"  Mother  of 
John,  throughout  her  life  Butu's  wife  continued  to  wear  the 
name  given  her  in  childhood,  Ina  na  Manuk — Mother  of 
Chickens ! 

Worthy  daughter  of  her  learned  father,  the  Sultan  and  Pun- 

[97] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

dita  of  Lake  Gusan,  Ina  was  one  of  the  very  few  Moro  women 
of  broad  education. 

So  learned  was  she  in  the  Koran  that  she  could  expound  it 
with  the  wisest  Punditas  of  them  all. 

Thus  she  exercised  great  influence  without  as  well  as  within 
her  own  household,  the  more  for  that  by  disposition  as  well 
as  by  training  she  was  deeply  religious  and  an  ardent  propa 
gandist  of  the  Prophet. 

Naturally,  with  such  a  woman,  her  household  held  no  rivals. 

Butu,  whatever  his  inclination,  must  content  himself  with 
what  she  could  give  him. 

Thus,  when  our  tree-top  friends  were  brought  among  them, 
the  family  was  limited  to  the  good  pair  of  them,  their  seven 
children,  a  few  pagan  slaves — and  their  chickens. 

And  there,  due  chiefly  to  Esa's  clever  diplomacy  the  bond 
age  of  the  three  was  of  the  lightest  and  gentlest. 

Lancona  was  employed  in  simple  domestic  tasks,  Usup  in 
voyaging  with  Butu  on  trading  expeditions  in  his  vinta  or 
pottering  at  easy  jobs  around  his  tienda. 

As  for  Esa,  from  the  first  Ina  na  Manuk  had  taken  a  great 
fancy  to  her. 

This  led  her  to  do  even  more  for  Esa  than  was  necessary  to 
the  carrying  out  of  the  plans  to  profit  by  her  that  she,  a  quick 
opportunist,  had  formed  at  first  glimpse  of  her  on  the  Ganta 
slave  block. 

Perceiving  her  to  possess  rare  intelligence  for  a  pagan,  rare, 
indeed,  among  the  Moro  girls,  the  attachment  she  formed  for 
her  soon  was  followed  by  an  ardent  desire  to  convert  her  to 
the  faith  of  Islam. 

Hence  it  was  she  kept  Esa  constantly  by  her  side  and  treat 
ed  her  more  as  daughter  than  as  slave. 

Nor  had  Usup's  lessons  been  in  vain. 

Out  of  much  teaching  always  must  come  wisdom,  so  the 
pupil  is  not  a  hopeless  dullard. 

And  the  eager  mind  of  Esa  had  missed  nothing  she  was  able 
to  retain  out  of  the  mountains  of  knowledge  through  which 
Usup  had  led  her. 

[98] 


SLAVE  TO  MOTHER  OF  CHICKENS 

And  happily  for  her  she  had  not  forgotten  his  hint  of  how 
much  easier  his  life  had  become  among  the  Paddies  after  he 
had  been  successful  in  misleading  them  into  conviction  that 
they  had  him  converted  to  their  faith. 

Then,  besides,  her  week  in  Ganta,  while  waiting  to  be  offered 
in  Linta's  Simbaum,  had  brought  her  some  new  object  les 
sons. 

It  had  given  her  time  to  form  the  wise  conclusion  that,  bit 
terly  as  she  resented  her  captivity,  and  wildly  as  she  longed 
to  regain  her  liberty  among  the  nodding  tree  tops  that  line 
the  Malbul,  nevertheless  she  must  be  patient  and  study  her 
masters  before  she  could  hope  to  outwit  them. 

Thus  would  she  make  her  days  easier  in  the  land  of  her  cap 
tivity  and  the  sooner  prepare  herself  to  regain  the  freedom 
she  loved. 

So  to  Ina  na  Manuk's  great  delight  she  found  her  not  only  a 
willing  but  an  eager  pupil. 

But  when,  early  in  her  captivity  at  Lamtag,  Ina  said  to  her: 

"Ah,  you  shrewd  little  unbeliever,  you  must  be  converted 
to  the  true  faith;  do  you  not  desire  it?"  Esa  feigned  ignorance 
and  innocently  answered : 

"But,  wise  one,  Dewata  well  suffices  us.  To  us  our  faith  in 
him  is  true.  But  would  you  that  I  should  change  it  for  yours?" 

"Would  I,  child?"  answered  Ina;  "I  would  that  all  should 
own  our  Allah. 

"Allah  alone  is  great. 

"He  alone  is  all  sufficing. 

"He  alone  can  give  light  in  darkness,  He  alone  give  rest  in 
pain,  He  alone  can  admit  us  to  life  everlasting. 

"Listen,  girl,  listen,"  and  her  tones  grew  eager;  "accept  Him 
and  heed  me  and  I  will  make  you  great  and  powerful,  even 
as  I  am. 

"I  will  teach  you  my  learning,  pass  you  the  mantle  of  my 
wisdom,  make  you  one  day  as  supreme  in  some  Datu's  house 
hold,  be  his  harem  favorites  what  they  may,  as  I  am  in  Butu's." 

"It  is  well,  wise  one,  it  shall  be  as  you  say,"  Esa  replied; 
"you  shall  not  find  me  unheedful,"  but  adding  under  her 

[99] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

breath,  "until  my  wings  are  strong  and  I  can  fly  as  I  like!" 

Day  by  day  her  training  proceeded,  but  less  trying,  more 
varied  than  the  droning  lectures  of  Usup,  with  whom  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  just  to  listen. 

With  Ina,  on  the  contrary,  there  were  no  end  of  things  to  do, 
most  puzzling  but  all  interesting. 

First,  there  was  the  learning  to  read  and  to  write,  the  magic 
by  which  the  Moros  cover  white  sheets  with  marks  that  look 
like  the  sand  where  many  chickens  have  fed,  by  which  they 
convey  messages  and  preserve  their  laws  and  history. 

Ah,  but  that  was  hard  work,  learning  to  read  and  write, 
shut  in  the  house,  bent  over  the  puzzling  sheets,  trying  to  re 
member  and  copy  the  weird  marks  thickly  sown  over  them. 

But  to  Esa,  this  was  their  greatest  magic. 

Only  those  who  practiced  it  were  the  powerful  of  the  land, 
so  to  it  she  stuck  patiently. 

And  once  tolerably  adept  at  reading,  then  came  the  Koran, 
that  endless  Koran,  and  its  interminable  passages  she  must 
memorize — and  the  prayers  she  must  learn  to  chant. 


[100] 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  COMING  OF  THE  'MERGANS 

Little  by  little,  day  by  day,  month  by  month,  Esa's  educa 
tion  by  Ina  na  Manuk  proceeded,  even  to  the  picking  up  of 
much  Spanish  from  her  father  and  the  Chinos.  Her  progress 
was  rapid,  so  rapid  that  Ina  na  Manuk  never  regretted  hav 
ing  parted  with  Lanang  to  get  her. 

Indeed,  she  became  perhaps  more  fond  of  her  than  of  any  of 
her  own  children. 

But  while  herself  become,  outwardly,  a  Moro  in  appear 
ance  and  practice,  conforming  to  Moro  customs  and  scrupu 
lously  observing  all  the  precepts  of  Islam  as  religiously  as  the 
most  devout  of  her  captors,  Esa  yet  loved  none  but  her  Mon- 
obo  people  and  feared  none  but  their  gods. 

Yet  all  this  she  was  as  careful  to  conceal  as  that  deep  in  her 
heart  blazed  anything  but  fondness  even  for  Ina. 

Of  Ina  she  was  always  gently  tolerant,  however,  for  she  ap 
preciated  her  kindness  and  valued  the  wisdom  taught  her 
and  was  hungry  for  more. 

But  Moro  character  and  practice  did  not  appeal  to  her  as 
anything  but  inferior,  in  all  respects,  to  that  of  the  Monobos. 

And  in  this  view  she  was  doubtless  strengthened  by  Lan- 
cona  and  Usup,  both  of  whom  were  kept  occupied  at  their 
tasks  and  never  admitted  to  any  of  the  advantages  she  en 
joyed. 

Of  her  father  she  was  very  fond,  and  with  him  passed  all  her 
spare  time  when  he  was  not  voyaging  with  Butu. 

As  for  Usup,  while  very  proud  of  her,  especially  of  her  ac 
quired  ability  to  read  and  write,  to  him  the  highest  form  of 
magic,  never  did  he  tire  trilling  the  dearly  loved  kuteehapee 
they  had  managed  to  retain  and  keeping  alive  in  her  mind 
the  Monobo  lore  and  mysteries. 

Great  was  she  as  a  Moro  girl,  greater  than  any  of  their  very 
own,  but  her  best  destiny  lay  with  her  clan. 

[101] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

That  Esa  must  never  forget. 

Punungan  was  dead. 

Tugan  was  young  and  untried. 

Was  not  the  chieftainship  of  the  clan  hers  for  the  asking? 

But  much  less  than  all  his  time  did  she  now  permit  him  to  so 
occupy. 

For  her  keen,  questing  mind  was  always  greedy  of  news  of 
the  many  markets  Usup  visited,  of  their  doings  and  gossip, 
with  which  he  returned  loaded. 

Especially  now,  for  a  new  enemy  was  abroad  in  the  land  and 
the  talk  of  the  river  from  the  mountains  to  the  sea,  the  terri 
ble  'Mergans! 

A  race  of  blue-eyed,  blond  giants,  they  were  said  to  be,  who 
dwarfed  even  the  lustiest  Paddies. 

Already  they  had  invaded  the  northern  coast  of  the  island. 

Before  the  superior  valor  and  arms  of  the  'Mergans,  the 
warriors  of  the  Paddies  were  powerless  as  are  the  trees  to 
withstand  the  tempest. 

Of  these  'Mergans  little  Esa  was  yet  to  see  more  and  learn 
much,  but,  of  course,  she  had  no  inkling  of  the  bliss  and  trag 
edy  their  coming  was  yet  to  bring  into  her  life. 

Of  the  'Mergans  one  evening  Usup  told  her.  "Child,  these 
'Mergans  must  have  more  wonderful  magic  than  the  Moros 
or  the  Paddies,  but  what  it  is  no  one  yet  knows. 

"Among  the  Moros  they  come  in  big,  armed  bodies,  carry 
ing  smoking  weapons  that  kill  as  far  as  one  can  see,  but  they 
hurt  no  one,  take  nothing.  They  ask  many,  many  questions 
about  the  people,  their  arms  and  their  products,  and  are  al 
ways  writing  in  their  books.  Any  chickens,  rice  or  other  food 
they  want,  they  take,  but  they  pay  for  it  in  red  cloth,  beads, 
brassware,  or  looking  glasses." 

"But  have  you  seen  nothing  of  their  magic,  father,  or  had 
hint  of  what  it  is  like?" 

"No,  not  a  word;  but  the  Chinos  say  that  people  like  them 
came  to  their  country  nearly  forty  years  ago  with  smooth 
words  and  big  promises  of  opening  their  country  to  trade  and 
improve  their  condition. 

[102] 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  'MERGANS 

"But  the  people  like  the  'Mergans  who  so  came  among  the 
Chinos  had  deceit  in  their  hearts  and  lies  on  their  tongues,  for 
they  brought  the  Chinos  the  Black  Poison  that  makes  sleep 
come,  which  they  call  opium;  and  when,  in  fear  of  it,  the 
Chinos  refused  to  accept  it,  then  the  white  men  made  war  on 
them  and  killed  so  many  of  their  people  that  finally  they  had 
to  accept  it." 

"Ah,"  said  Esa,  "but  that  Black  Poison  itself  is  wonderful 
magic.  The  Chino  traders  who  sell  it  to  the  Datus  get  rich 
very  fast.  The  Datus  are  so  crazy  for  it,  they  pay  any  price 
the  Chinos  ask,  in  carabaos,  gutta,  women  or  other  slaves. 
Surely  these  'Mergans  must  bring  the  same  magic  or  some 
thing  more  powerful." 

"Well,  that  is  more  than  I  know,  but  I  hear  that  never  do 
white  men  come  into  the  country  of  black  or  yellow  men  ex 
cept  to  rob  them  of  their  lands  and  their  labor." 

During  his  travels,  Usup  had  met  and  become  much  culti 
vated  by  an  old  Chino  trader  named  Wa-Tu,  one  of  the  rich 
est  and  wisest  of  his  people  in  the  island. 

Wa-Tu  had  been  one  of  the  keenest  competitors  for  the  pur 
chase  of  Esa  at  the  Ganta  market. 

And  the  sly  old  Chino  had  no  more  lost  interest  in  the  girl 
than  he  had  been  slow  to  realize  the  information  of  trade  op 
portunities  in  the  interior  to  be  gained  from  Usup. 

To  be  sure,  Wa-Tu  was  sixty,  and  sported  a  spare  wife  for 
not  a  few  of  his  years,  but  still  not  so  many  he  could  not  well 
afford  more. 

But  while  Wa-Tu  was  wise  in  the  doings  and  ways  of  the 
world,  his  brother  and  inseparable,  Go-Peng,  far  surpassed 
him,  for  Go-Peng  was  a  scholar  who  had  travelled  widely  and 
made  himself  a  close  student  of  the  history  and  customs  of  all 
races.  By  the  Moros  his  advice  on  both  domestic  and  foreign 
politics  was  highly  valued  and  often  sought  by  the  Datus, 
and  far  better  would  it  have  been  for  them  if  they  had  more 
closely  followed  it. 


[103] 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
CHINO  PHILOSOPHY 

Frequent  were  the  visits  of  Wa-Tu  and  Go-Peng  at  Butu's 
village  since  Esa's  coming,  on  any  pretext,  or  on  no  pretext 
at  all,  and  longer  grew  their  stays. 

But  one  day  they  arrived  on  a  very  definite  and  important 
mission,  no  less  than  a  summons  to  a  conference  there  with 
the  leading  Datus  of  the  Rio  Grande  valley. 

The  Datus  were  worried  and  puzzled. 

Their  policy  toward  those  terrible  'Mergans  must  be  de 
termined. 

How  could  they  resist  a  people  who  had  swept  the  colossal 
smoking  war  boats  of  the  Paddies  from  the  seas,  captured 
Manila  and  dominated  Luzon? 

Already  had  they  established  themselves  at  Cagyan,  at 
Zamboanga  and  Cotabato. 

To  be  sure,  unresisted,  they  were  pacific,  but  still  their  pur 
pose  in  coming  had  not  developed. 

Could  it  be  anything  less  than  hostile  in  one  way  or  another 
to  Datu  dominion? 

Could  it  be  long  before  they  were  seeking  to  squeeze  them 
greedily  as  had  the  Paddies? 

All  this  they  must  learn  and  determine  how  to  treat,  for 
plainly  the  'Mergans  would  prove  infinitely  harder  to  deal 
with  than  were  the  Paddies. 

And  it  was  in  this  dilemma  they  had  summoned  Go-Peng. 

Thus  it  was  a  large  gathering  of  the  lords  of  the  land  that 
squatted  on  their  mats  in  Butu's  council  room,  gaily  be-tur- 
baned,  richly  be-krised,  all  keyed  to  their  keenest  by  extra 
heavy  use  of  the  stimulating  contents  of  their  Buyo  boxes,  to 
listen  to  wise  old  Go-Peng. 

After  much  rambling  discourse  among  themselves,  from 
which  it  appeared  the  opinion  was  general  that  the  'Mergans 

[105] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

could  only  be  come  as  came  the  Spaniards,  to  subjugate  and 
tax  them,  Datu  Linta  asked  Go-Peng: 

"But,  tell  us,  Go- Peng,  are  not  these  'Mergans  of  the  same 
white  race  that  you  have  told  us  forced  upon  your  people  the 
Black  Poison  and  tried  to  steal  your  country?" 

"No,"  answered  Go-Peng;  "they  are  a  different  people,  have 
different  laws  and  are  in  all  ways  far  superior  to  the  European 
whites  who  ruthlessly  wronged  China. 

"In  nothing  is  the  government  of  those  Europeans  materi 
ally  different  from  your  own. 

"There,  as  here,  there  are  three  classes: 

"The  ruling  class  that  corresponds  to  your  Sultans,  Rajas 
and  Datus. 

"The  trading,  commercial  and  land  owning  class  their  chiefs 
are  forced  to  tolerate  as  the  bulwark  of  their  system,  these 
both  of  very  limited  numbers. 

"And  last  the  poor,  that  make  up  the  vast  majority  of  their 
subjects,  whose  privileges  so  nearly  begin  and  end  with  the 
right  to  live  and  to  exhaust  their  energies  for  the  enrichment 
of  their  masters  that  they  are  a  little  better  off  than  are  your 
Monobo  slaves. 

"As  for  their  middle  class,  its  richer  traders  and  traffickers 
furnish  money  and  leaders  for  their  rulers'  wars,  precisely  as 
do  the  more  prosperous  of  your  planters,  and  with  one  sort  of 
spoils  or  another  they  are  kept  playing  their  masters'  game 
just  as  you  share  the  loot  of  their  raids  with  your  henchmen 
whose  blood  has  won  it." 

"But  do  not  their  middle  and  low  class  know  rest  and  diver 
sion  between  their  wars  and  after  harvests  are  made,  as  do 
ours?"  Datu  Mambutu  interrupted. 

"Diversion,  yes,  in  a  measure;  but  never  do  those  Europeans 
know  rest,  never  are  they  free  of  the  weight  of  the  yoke." 

"Why?" 

"First,  because  their  wars  are  so  frequent  or  the  dread  that 
new  wars  will  break  out  is  so  great,  that  all  but  the  older  sub 
jects  of  each  government  are  kept  constantly  trained  in  war- 

[1*6] 


v 


CHINO  PHILOSOPHY 

fare  and  organized  into  vast  armies,  ready  at  a  moment's 
notice  to  take  the  field  against  their  enemies. 

"Thus  all  Europe  is  a  string  of  vast  armed  camps,  in  which 
millions  of  men  are  serving,  largely  withdrawn  from  every 
type  of  productive  labor,  all  at  such  frightful  cost  that  each 
of  the  European  governments  is  staggering  under  burdens  of 
debt  that  run  into  more  millions  than  there  are  alligators  in 
the  Rio  Grande." 

"But  have  they  no  wealth,  no  property,  those  rulers  or  gov 
ernments?"  queried  Linta. 

"Not  a  centavo"  Go-Peng  answered,  "except  what  they 
squeeze  in  taxes  from  the  trading,  trafficking,  farming  and 
laboring  classes. 

"The  wretched  masses  must  pay  for  the  privilege  of  being 
misgoverned  by  the  ruling  class  that  fattens  and  grows  rich 
at  their  expense. 

"And  it  is  because  the  masses  are  kept  drained  dry  to  the 
near  border  of  revolt  that  the  vast  mountains  of  debt  of 
which  I  have  told  you  have  been  piled  up." 

"But  tell  me,  Sabio"  Butu  asked,  "who  will  lend  to  such 
mad  improvidents?  Who  is  crazy  enough  to  trust  them?" 

"Their  own  deluded  subjects,  to  be  sure,  in  whom  has  been 
ingrained  the  illusion  that  the  obligations  of  their  rulers  and 
their  governments  are  sacred,  as  sacred  as  is  their  own  duty 
to  sweat  for  them. 

"Thus,  through  loans,  enormous  sums  of  the  gains  of  the 
masses  not  absorbed  by  taxation  are  drained  into  adminis 
trative  coffers,  to  be  squandered  in  mad  administrative  ex 
travagances. 

"And  this  notwithstanding  every  last  one  of  those  European 
governments  is,  technically,  and  actually,  a  bankrupt,  in  the 
sense  and  to  the  extent  that  they  are  unable  to  liquidate 
their  maturing  debts  out  of  their  own  available  resources, 
and  only  escape  the  disgrace  of  downright  default  to  their 
creditors  by  new  borrowings  that  year  by  year  pile  higher 
the  loads  of  debt  that  one  day  must  crush  them  to  ruin  and 
plunge  them  into  unthinkable  chaos." 

[107] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

And  then,  after  sitting  for  a  time  silent,  apparently  absorb 
ed  in  the  terrible  picture  he  had  drawn,  Go- Peng  resumed : 

"The  second  reason  they  know  no  rest  is  that  their  life  is 
even  far  more  complex  than  is  ours  in  China. 

"Those  white  races  of  Europe  are  by  nature  self-indulgent, 
great  lovers  of  luxury,  always  ready  to  pay  dear  for  anything 
new  that  can  add  to  their  comfort  or  pleasure. 

"And  since  many  of  their  middle  and  lower  classes  are  pos 
sessed  of  extraordinary  ingenuity  in  devising  new  things  to 
please  and  tempt,  their  land  is  covered  everywhere  with 
great  workshops  where  labor  never  ceases  night  or  day,  and 
where  their  workers  in  metals  and  fabrics  produce  such  mir 
acles  of  beauty  or  convenience  that  there  is  no  end  to  the  de 
mand  for  them. 

"Were  they  content  to  live  more  as  we  do,  limiting  their 
labor  to  the  production  of  such  food,  shelter  and  clothing  as 
ordinary  comfort  demands,  their  problems  would  be  simple 
as  are  ours. 

"But  all  that  makes  for  increase  in  the  complexity  of  their 
lives  they  boast  as  an  advance  in  civilization;  a  misconcep 
tion  they  take  pride  in,  notwithstanding,  obviously,  every 
step  of  such  advance  only  enslaves  them  to  new  wants  and 
condemns  them  to  new  and  harder  labor,  or  bows  them  down 
under  new  disappointments. 

"Civilization,  according  to  the  white  man's  conception 
and  practice  of  it,  Datus,  is  day  by  day  welding  chains  of 
actual  slavery  tighter  and  tighter  upon  the  white  race,  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest. 

"And  it  is  a  slavery  beside  which  that  of  your  pagans  is 
benign,  that  worst  bondage  of  all  any  creature  may  suffer, 
slavery  to  one's  own  unsatisfied  wants,  exclusion  from  the 
ranks  of  those  who  have  what  he  has  not. 

"Better  a  sweating  pagan  staggering  under  a  heavy  load 
than  a  Tree*  white  man  taught  to  contract  tastes  and  desires 
he  lacks  ability  to  gratify." 

"But,  Sabio,  all  who  owe  one  day  must  pay — are  made  to 
whether  they  want  to  or  not,"  broke  in  Datu  Telecoco,  the 

[108] 


CHINO  PHILOSOPHY 

feared,  who,  they  say,  can  talk  to  alligators  and  slip  around  of 
nights  silently  as  a  vampire  and  suck  the  blood  of  his  enemies, 
"what  is  the  magic  of  those  white  rulers,  and  how  long  can 
they  go  on  doing  that  beautiful  double  squeeze  of  their  peo 
ple,  first  taxing  them  and  then  borrowing  from  them? 

"I'd  like  to  know  that  magic,  me." 

"How  long,  Datu?"  replied  the  bold  old  Chino. 

"It  can  and  will  go  on  until  the  last  of  the  class  you  Datus 
typify  have  perished  or  been  stripped  of  the  myth  of  supe 
riority  over  their  fellows  that  has  lent  them  authority  and 
privilege  to  have  their  will  of  their  people. 

"It  must  go  on  until  all  the  lords  of  the  earth  are  common 
ers  and  all  commoners  are  broadly  privileged  as  now  are 
lords." 

"Pay?" 

"Yes,  one  day  they  must  pay,  must  those  governments;  but 
only  can  they  be  made  to  pay  by  forcing  them  to  make  way 
for  a  new  type  of  government  that  shall  be  truly  representa 
tive  of  all  the  people. 

"And  then  generations  of  clean,  honest,  economic  adminis 
tration  must  ensue,  through  which  the  now  idle  armed  hosts 
are  profitably  employed  in  the  ranks  of  labor,  before  national 
resources  can  be  husbanded  and  ability  to  begin  paying  their 
creditors  can  be  attained." 

"Well,  I'm  as  glad  they  don't  owe  me  anything  as  I'm  sorry 
I  don't  understand  their  borrowing  magic,"  commented  Tele- 
coco;  "but  tell  us,  Sabio,  in  what  are  the  'Mergans  different 
from  the  white  people  you  have  described." 

"Most  notably  are  they  different,  Datu,  in  that  among  the 
'Mergans  all  are  equal  and  include  no  ruling  class  claiming 
authority  by  Divine  right. 

"In  theory,  and  largely  in  practice,  their  laws  are  made  by 
and  for  the  common  good  of  all  the  people. 

"But  true  it  is  that  their  government  has  not  yet  become 
truly  representative  of  all  the  people. 

"The  governing  class  have  so  molded  the  laws  and  adminis- 

[109] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

tered  them  as  to  create  a  ruling  class  even  mightier  than  are 
any  who  have  occupied  European  thrones — Lords  by  Money 
Might,  who  are  more  powerful  than  any  of  the  Lords  by  Di 
vine  Right." 


[no] 


"Then  they  are  rich,  those  'Mergan  Datus,  and  have  many 
people,  have  they  not?"  asked  Mambutu  of  Go-Peng. 

"Many  people?  What  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  many  Monobo  slaves,  of  course." 

"No,  Moros;  the  'Mergans  have  no  slaves,  in  the  sense  that 
your  Monobos  are  yours,  whose  bodies  you  may  exhaust  or 
whose  lives  take  at  your  will. 

"All,  under  the  theory  of  their  laws,  are  free  and  equal,  re 
member. 

"The  lowest  born  may  be  elevated  to  the  highest  post  in  the 
land,  so  he  has  the  worth  and  strength  to  win  it. 

"Among  them  none  may  own  property  in  human  flesh;  no 
son  of  man  may  be  bought  and  sold. 

"But  while  Freedom  opens  the  door  of  opportunity  to  the 
'Mergan  masses,  comparatively  few  ever  get  far  within  the 
threshold. 

"Here  you  Moro  Datus  must  buy  the  men  and  women  you 
need  to  do  your  labor. 

"They  cost  you  money. 

"They  become  property,  a  part  of  your  wealth. 

"Kill  them  or  needlessly  exhaust  or  starve  them,  and  you 
are  deliberately  robbing  yourselves. 

"None  but  fools  do  that. 

"The  fatter  you  keep  them  the  longer  they  live,  the  more 
they  profit  you. 

"The  labor  the  'Mergan  Datus  need,  they  may  not  buy. 

"The  men  and  women  and  children  they  want,  they  hire,  on 
wage. 

"Their  health,  their  lives,  matter  nothing  to  the  'Mergan 
Datus,  for  they  have  cost  nothing,  are  not  property.  As  last 
as  they  are  worn  out  or  die,  others  may  be  hired. 

[in] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"Hence  the  'Mergan  Datus  profit  most  who  hire  cheapest 
and  work  hardest  the  men  and  women  they  need." 

"Father  of  Alligators !  What  a  grand  system!"  enthusiasti 
cally  broke  in  Datu  Telecoco,  "Free!  You  call  those  'Mergan 
Monobos  free,  Sabio?  Why,  they're  tighter  bound  slaves  than 
our  Monobos! 

"And  think  of  it;  brethren;  they  cost  nothing,  dont  have  to  be 
Jed,  and  you  can  blister  their  bands  or  break  their  backs  without 
loss  of  a  centavo!" 

"True,  Datu,  the  'Mergan  Monobos  are  indeed  slaves,  in 
many  respects  of  more  pitiable  condition  than  are  yours," 
answered  Go-Peng. 

"Indeed,  in  yet  another  sense  are  they  slaves,  as  victims  of 
the  theory  of  Freedom  and  Equality  upon  which  their  gov 
ernment  is  founded. 

"The  'Mergans  are  a  mixed  race,  made  up  of  all  the  peoples 
of  the  world. 

"To  them  have  flocked  the  lowly  and  downtrodden  burden- 
bearers  of  all  lands,  eager  for  share  of  their  free  opportunities. 

"And  there  each,  according  to  his  ability,  may  earn  twice 
or  thrice  as  much — and  often  far  more — than  in  the  land  of 
his  birth. 

"But  soon,  his  imagination  awakened  and  his  wants  in 
creased  by  education,  his  perspective  lengthened,  the  result 
ing  pride  of  the  Freedom  that  gives  him  Equality  with  the 
greatest  of  the  land  of  his  adoption,  is  transmuted  into  noth 
ing  less  than  a  bitter  curse  that  leaves  him  self-shackled  in  a 
bondage  few  of  his  type  ever  escape,  a  bondage  that  galls  and 
sweats  him  to  an  extent  your  Monobo  slaves  never  know. 

"Equal  to,  good  as  any  man! 

"How  can  he  obviously  demonstrate  it? 

"How,  save  by  living  the  pace  of  the  grade  next  above  him,  by 
decking  his  woman  and  cnildren  gaily  as  those  of  that  grade 
deck  theirs,  by  housing  himself  and  indulging  in  luxuries  as 
do  they? 

"Thus,  to  realize  in  his  own  case  and  from  his  own  point  of 

[112] 


BETTER  OFF  A  MORO  THAN  A  'MERGAN  SLAVE 

view  the  'Mergan  theory  of  Equality,  he  condemns  himself 
to  treadmill  drudgery  that  never  ceases  until  his  death. 

"For  struggle  and  prosper  as  he  may,  increase  his  yearly 
gains  all  he  can,  always  above  and  beyond  him  is  yet  another 
grade  that  keeps  him  wearily,  stubbornly  plodding.** 

"What  a  queer  people!*'  interposed  Datu  Linta;  "I  don't 
see  how  they  are  materially  better  than  are  the  whites  who 
forced  the  Black  Poison  on  your  people." 

"Ah,  but  they  are,  Datu. 

"The  theory  of  their  government  is  better,  the  best  ever  de 
vised. 

"And  now  they  are  steadily  improving  its  practice. 

"Nearer  are  they  approaching  a  truly  broad  representative 
government  and  rapidly  limiting  the  power  of  the  privileged 
classes  which  have  been  exploiting  the  masses. 

"Already  many  of  their  provinces  have  given  their  women 
equal  rights  and  privileges  with  their  men,  and  soon,  it  ap 
pears,  women  will  have  free  voice  in  all  affairs,  public  and 
private,  throughout  their  land.'* 

"Father  of  Alligators!  What  do  you  think  of  that?'*  Telecoco 
blurted.  "They  are  crazy,  mad  as  a  bee-stung  carabao,  are 
those  'Mergans.  What  do  their  lords  figure  will  happen  to 
their  harems? 

"Why,  Sabio,  their  harems  will  be  unlivable. 

"Free  voice  indeed! 

"Women's  tongues  and  conduct  ever  are  too  free,  even  where, 
as  among  us,  one  can  make  his  Kali  condemn  them  to  be  buried 
to  the  shoulders  in  the  sand  or  to  be  tied  to  an  ant-covered 
palosanto. 

"May  Balbal  seize  them  if  they  try  to  bring  such  madness 
here!" 

"But,  Datu,  the  *Mergans  have  no  harems,  at  least  in  your 
sense. 

"Their  laws  limit  them  to  one  wife,  and  any  not  so  satisfied 
must  forage  abroad  and  eat  his  fruit  where  he  finds  it. 

"To  be  sure,  the  foragers  are  many. 

"And  according  to  my  observation  when  in  their  country, 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

their  practices  in  this  respect  have  served  to  make  the  con 
dition  of  thousands  and  thousands  of  their  women  far  more 
deplorable  than  is  that  of  the  women  of  lands  where  polyg 
amy  is  practiced." 

"By  my  father's  beard,  but  it  is  high  time  we  are  learning 
their  motives  in  invading  our  country,"  said  Linta.  "First,  I 
suppose,  they  are  prompted  by  loot,  for  such  a  people  must 
be  great  raiders  among  themselves,  are  they  not?" 

"No,  Datu,"  Go- Peng  answered,  "never  do  they  raid  their 
neighbors. 

"Wars  they  have  had,  but  only  to  establish  and  maintain 
their  own  freedom  or  that  of  others. 

"Once  only  have  they  warred  among  themselves,  over  the 
practice  of  one  section  of  their  provinces  of  enslaving  black 
men,  and  as  a  result  property  in  human  flesh  has  been  abol 
ished  from  their  land. 

"In  their  wars  with  others  they  have  been  invincible,  chiefly 
for  that  the  soldiers  of  their  enemies  have  been  principally 
landless  hirelings  of  their  rulers,  with  small  color  of  stake  in 
the  game  they  were  forced  into,  while  the  'Mergan  troops 
were  free-holders  battling  for  their  homes  or  to  help  others 
to  the  freedom  they  enjoy." 

"To  help  others!  Well  that's  about  enough  of  your  'Mer- 
gans,"  growled  Telecoco;  "personally,  I  get  all  the  battling 
on  my  own  account  I  need,  without  messing  with  the  troubles 
of  others.  But  brethren,  is  it  not  time  to  eat  and  sleep?" 

A  suggestion  so  generally  popular  that  the  conference  ad 
journed,  to  meet  again  in  mid-afternoon. 

As  the  company  slowly  filed  out,  Esa  arose  from  a  corner 
where  she  had  been  feigning  sleep,  but  eagerly  following  all 
that  was  said,  as  well  as  she  could,  and  sighed : 

"Well,  better  a  Mt.  Apo  than  a  'Mergan  Monobo." 

And  then  she  summoned  some  of  the  meaner  slaves  to  re 
move  the  circle  of  cuspidors  which  in  the  excitement  of  the 
strange  happenings  tney  had  been  listening  to  the  betel- 
chewing  Datus  had  been  patronizing  more  liberally  than 
usual. 

["4] 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
THE  GIRL  OF  HIS  DREAMS 

Neither  in  her  infrequent  letters  to  her  mother,  nor  in  her 
intimacy  with  the  Morines,  nor  even  to  Captain  Tony  Trigg, 
had  Ruth  Snell  communicated  any  hint  of  the  bitterness  of 
her  disillusions  and  disappointments. 

Far  too  much  of  the  stubborn  self-sufficiency  of  her  father, 
James  Snell,  had  she  for  that. 

His  iron  will  had  not  been  sufficient  to  daunt  her  and  force 
her  into  marriage  with  the  human  zero  whose  one  and  only 
recommendation — admitted  by  her  father — was  the  large 
numeral  in  front  of  the  long  string  of  ciphers  that  represented 
his  fortune. 

On  this  subject  their  two  wills  had  clashed,  and  his  had  not 
triumphed. 

Her  resolution  was  formed. 

He  might  disinherit  her — and  had. 

Remained  only  to  carry  out  her  resolution,  and  to  the  carry 
ing  of  it  out  she  had  proceeded  with  a  promptness  and  meth 
od  that  doubtless  the  old  task-master  was  still  secretly  ad 
miring.  Only  he'd  die  before  he'd  ever  admit  it. 

Nor  from  the  first  plan  to  do  for  herself  that  had  come  into 
her  head  had  she  varied  a  hair. 

To  her  mother  she  had  said,  "I'll  teach.  I'll  go  to  the  wilder 
ness,  to  any  wilderness,  say  to  the  Philippines  and  teach  my 
naked  sister  of  the  jungle." 

Hence,  of  course,  to  the  Philippines  she  had  come — and 
Destiny,  working  through  the  Chief  of  the  Bureau  of  Educa 
tion  at  Manila,  had  assigned  her  to  the  Moro  Provinces, 
with  station  at  Cotabato. 

Months  before,  when  a  government  transport,  making  a 
round  of  the  southern  garrisons  to  effect  a  change  of  troops, 
had  brought  her  there,  she  had  found  the  wife  of  Joseph  Mor- 
ine  the  only  white  woman  in  the  town. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Indeed,  Mrs.  Morine  was  the  only  white  woman  in  all  south 
ern  Mindanao. 

And  when  Mrs.  Morine' s  health  made  it  necessary  for  her 
to  take  the  very  next  boat  north,  for  a  change  of  climate,  Ruth 
Snell,  by  right  of  seniority,  succeeded  to  her  lonely  distinc 
tion. 

But  while  she  had  learned  to  highly  esteem  Mrs.  Morine, 
the  loss  of  her  had  not  in  the  least  discomposed  or  saddened 
Ruth. 

Why  should  it? 

Everything  in  this  world  has  its  compensations. 

Strangers  to  love  and  warm  friendship  are  spared  the  pangs 
of  partings. 

Dwellers  within  themselves  know  no  suffering  from  lack  of 
companionship. 

And  resolution  having  brought  her  there,  it  was  also  resolu 
tion — more  even  than  Tony  Trigg — that  was  keeping  her  in 
Cotabato. 

But,  oh!  the  sad  jolts  her  ideals  had  received.  She  had  in 
tended  to  accomplish  so  much.  That  was  the  essential  ele 
ment  of  her  resolution,  to  work  and  to  do.  And  work  that 
shows  no  progress  soon  becomes  a  horror. 

She  had  not  come  there  as  come  the  other  Insular  teachers. 
Not  at  least  in  any  respect  save  in  her  hopeless  ignorance  of 
Spanish  or  any  of  the  native  tongues. 

Of  the  rank  and  file  of  the  others,  some  take  their  task  seri 
ously  enough,  but  with  very  definite  side  considerations. 

Some  see  in  an  Insular  teachership  a  chance  for  a  rattling 
fine  honeymoon;  a  few  start  warm  with  the  untried  zeal  of 
young  missionaries;  not  a  few  have  hid  up  their  sleeves  neat 
little  contracts  for  news  letters  to  their  home  newspapers — 
and  the  rest  are  grateful  for  a  chance  to  see  the  world  at  the 
expense  of  Uncle  Sam  and  to  idle  and  fatten  at  his  generous 
crib. 

But  Ruth  came  just  to  work,  to  accomplish  something,  and 
such  as  she  like  to  see  results,  want  results  so  badly  that  they 
are  distressed  when  they  don't  appear. .  , 

[116] 


THE  GIRL  OF  HIS  DREAMS 

That  is  what  was  hurting  Ruth. 

She  was  big  mentally,  trained  intellectually  to  a  finish,  gradu 
ated  in  the  first  five  of  her  college  class,  fitted  and  ambitious 
to  win  distinction  in  her  chosen  vocation. 

And  now,  after  many  months  of  persistent,  patient  toil,  she 
realized  she  lacked — fit  material  to  work  on ! 

Fit!  It  was  utterly  impossible,  altogether  too  raw  for  her 
measure  of  preparation. 

The  job  lot  of  castes,  half-castes  and  no  castes,  a  few  of  them,  at 
least,  might  attain  the  distinction  of  becoming  the  progeni 
tors  of  great-great-great  grandchildren  capable  of  receiving 
something  of  the  rudimentary  elements  of  a  higher  education. 

But  that  was  all. 

Ruth  knew  it — as  anybody  with  a  head  screwed  on  straight 
who  studies  the  question  is  bound  to  learn  and  admit. 

And  it  was  somber  thought  along  this  line  that  had  been 
preoccupying  her  that  afternoon  when  the  Governor  strolled 
in  for  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  chin-chin. 

Many,  indeed,  were  the  long  chin-chins  the  two  had.  Never 
theless,  their  interest  in  each  other  was  so  obviously  purely 
intellectual  that  Captain  Tony  Trigg  was  not  worrying  about 
it,  much  less  feeling  it  necessary  to  take  any  exception  to  it. 

Her  keen  mind  and  serious  interest  in  all  the  larger  Insular 
problems  was  both  an  inspiration  and  a  rest  to  Morine,  a  rest 
from  the  routine  of  office  minutias  and  the  petty  shop  talk  of 
the  mess. 

His  broad  knowledge  of  the  world,  his  intimate  experience 
and  close  observation  of  social  and  political  conditions  in 
many  lands,  and  his  shrewd,  and  often  startling  and  altogeth 
er  original  but  always  profoundly  earnest  conversation,  ab 
sorbed  her.  To  her,  it  was  a  post  graduate  course  in  social  and 
political  science  by  one  who  seldom  minced  words  and  who 
never  balked  at  free  expressions  of  the  prejudices  deeply  rooted 
in  his  Irish  blood. 

After  telling  Ruth  good  evening,  Morine  dropped  into  a  long 
lounge  chair  and  cheerily  asked: 

"Well,  Miss  Snell,  how's  the  school  coming  on?  Going  to 

[117] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

have  the  little  brown  brothers  of  the  Islands  fit  for  represen 
tative  government  shortly?  You  know  a  big  section  of  the 
home  public  and  press  are  clamoring  for  our  retirement  from 
the  Islands  and  leaving  their  people  to  stew  in  their  own 
political  broth." 

"Of  course  I'm  aware  of  the  clamor  at  home,  but  certainly 
you  are  jesting  with  me,  Governor.  Fit  these  people  for  rep 
resentative  government !  Fit  them  to  be  turned  loose  to  run 
themselves ! 

"Yes,  it's  natural  the  people  at  home  should  expect  that  of 
us,  we've  gotten  on  so  fast  fitting  the  American  Indians  for 
representative  government  and  admitting  them  to  participa 
tion  in  it,  haven't  we?  Let  me  see,  I  believe  it  was  only  a 
small  matter  of  three  hundred  odd  years  ago  that  we  started 
in  on  them  with  bullets  and  Bibles,  a  scant  hundred  since  we 
began  serious  attempt  at  their  education,  and  yet  how  amaz 
ingly  rapid  has  been  our  progress !  So  rapid  that  perhaps  in 
another  half  century  they  may  be  regarded  as  eligible  for 
citizenship." 

"Quite  so,"  concurred  the  Australian.  "And  there  your  prob 
lem  was  so  much  more  difficult  than  is  ours  here.  In  America 
you  were  soon  very,  very  many  to  the  Indians'  one,  while 
here  we  have  seven  million  natives  of  all  sorts,  none  superior 
to  and  few  the  equal  mentally  of  the  North  American  Indian, 
to  a  few  hundred  of  us !" 

And  since  Ruth  sat  silent,  presently  Morine  added,  "Here 
Tony's  the  bullet  and  you  the  Bible  bearer  of  this  Moro  prov 
ince,  and  possibly  the  eighth  generation  of  your  descend 
ants  may  see  the  progeny  of  your  present  charges  become 
creditable  citizens  of  a  government  of  their  own." 

Whereupon  Ruth  blushed  slightly  and  manifested  a  meas 
ure  of  discomposure  very  unusual  for  her,  for  Morine's  last 
observation  had  conveyed  an  implication  he  was  far  from  in 
tending. 

For  the  truth  is  that  she  and  Tony  had  become  engaged, 
and  the  fact  had  been  locally  announced  by  them  several 
weeks  before. 

[lit] 


THE  GIRL  OF  HIS  DREAMS 

At  the  time  of  her  arrival,  Tony  had  seen  no  white  girl  for 
three  years.  The  dignity  and  calm  beauty  of  Ruth's  face 
made  her  to  him  a  fascinating  vision  from  another  world,  the 
home  world. 

The  splendid  wealth  of  her  golden  hair  had  for  him,  so  to 
speak,  cloaked  the  pathetic  poverty  of  her  figure  and  clothed 
her  in  loveliness. 

Ha!  she  had  materialized.  Here  had  come  to  him  the  girl  of 
his  dreams  through  many  a  steaming  jungle  night  when  no 
sounds  broke  the  silence  save  the  hum  of  insects,  the  plain 
tive  squeak  of  carabao  and  the  bark  of  deer. 

Thrall  to  her  from  the  moment  of  their  first  meeting,  the 
great,  gentle,  rollicking,  reckless  bush  fighter  had  keenly  in 
terested  Ruth. 

To  her  he  was  a  new  type  in  every  respect. 

Here  was  a  man  free  of  greed,  free  of  envy,  evidently  hap 
pier  doing  for  others  than  in  doing  for  himself,  reputed  the 
most  desperately  cool  fighter  in  all  the  Island  forces,  and  yet 
simple  and  tender  as  a  child. 

Soon  it  became  plain  to  her  that  he  was  as  tirelessly  vigilant 
of  her  convenience  and  comfort  as  against  a  jungle  night  sur 
prise  of  his  command. 

No  want  could  possess  her  or  trouble  stray  her  way,  it  seem 
ed,  that  Captain  Trigg  did  not  divine  it — and  bang !  the  want 
was  gratified  or  the  trouble  disappeared. 

All  which  was  so  wholly  new  to  Ruth.  She  had  never  had 
anything  of  the  sort  from  anyone.  And  it  was  so  very  nice. 

So  very  nice,  in  fact,  Ruth  was  so  grateful  for  it  and  came  to 
value  it  so  highly,  that  when  after  months  had  passed  Tony 
mustered  courage  to  declare  his  love  for  her,  she  had  accept 
ed — probably  it  would  be  most  correct  to  say,  she  had  ac 
cepted  his  service. 

Certainly  he  had  not  stirred  her  imagination,  much  less  set 
her  atrophied  heart  throbbing. 

But  she  did  highly  value  his  obvious  integrity,  earnestness 
and — his  utility. 

[•19] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

He  was  helpful  to  have  around,  and,  of  course,  a  man  any 
woman  could  take  pride  in. 

So  they  had  become  engaged,  and  hence  it  was  that  Morine's 
reference  to  future  generations  of  their  descendants  had 
caused  Ruth  some  temporary  embarrassment. 


CHAPTER  XXX 
WA-TU'S  WOOING 

Rising  from  his  siesta  earlier  than  did  the  Datus,  quite  be 
fore  mid-afternoon,  Wa-Tu,  the  enamored,  began  a  sly  quest 
for  the  fascinating  little  Esa. 

Finally  he  found  her,  alone,  arranging  the  council  room  for 
the  afternoon  assembly. 

"Ah!  And  so  here  you  are,  little  daughter  of  Mt.  Apo.  Al 
ways  are  you  busy — worth  a  dozen  of  Ina  na  Manuk's  best/' 

"One  must  do  her  bidding,  Chino,"  Esa  quietly  answered. 

"Yes,  yes;  slaves  must  do  as  they  are  bia,  little  ones  as  well 
as  big  ones,  pretty  ones  as  well  as  the  ugly. 

"Only  for  such  beauties  as  you  usually  the  bidding  is  to  light 
and  pleasant  tasks. 

"So  it  should  ever  be,  at  least,  if  you  were  mine.  The  pleasuring 
of  old  Wa-Tu  would  be  the  heaviest  asked  of  you;  for  others 
should  be  all  the  drudgeries.  That  would  not  be  hard,  would 
it,  little  maid?" 

"N — o,  not  for  long  would  it  be  hard,  Chino,"  Esa  enigmati 
cally  answered. 

"Fine,  fine!"  grinned  old  Wa-Tu,  wholly  failing  to  catch 
hint  of  veiled  threat  in  her  reply;  "shortly  we'd  get  on  won 
derfully. 

"And  you,  little  beauty,  you  should  be  the  envy  of  every 
woman  in  Mindanao,  for  I'd  frock  you  in  the  brightest  and 
softest  silks  of  my  country,  fatten  you  on  its  richest  foods, 
load  your  pretty  neck  and  arms  with  rings  and  chains  no  Da- 
tu's  favorite  owns. 

"You  should  play  to  me  on  that  fascinating  little  instrument 
you  finger  'til  it  trills  softly  as  the  whispers  of  the  tiniest  birds, 
sing  to  me  the  amorous  little  sighing  melodies  I  note  you  here 
reserve  for  Usup  as,  once  mine,  you  should  always  reserve 
them  for  me. 

"So,  as  now  to  him,  so  you  should  only  sing  to  me  when  we 

[121] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

are  together,  quite  alone.  That  Wa-Tu  will  love;  and  you, 
little  beauty?" 

"I,  Chino,"  Esa  answered,  "I  sing  only  for  my  own  people." 

"But,  once  come  to  me,  child,  you  will  be  of  my  people,  I  of 
yours." 

"HI  sing  for  none  but  those  I  choose,"  Esa  answered,  with 
just  a  threat  of  anger  in  her  tone  the  Chino  did  not  catch ; 
"and  as  for  being  yours,  Pm  not,  nor  will  I  be — ever.  Mark 
that  Chino." 

"But  if  I  buy  you,  little  one,  you'll  have  to  come  to  me — 
you'll  be  mine,  to  do  with  as  I  will,  but  always  mine  shall  be 
a  kindly  will  in  all  that  concerns  you." 

"Buy  me  you  may,  I  suppose,  if  Ina  wants  to  sell  me,  but 
what  comes  to  you  be  sure  you'll  have  no  pleasure  of,  Wa-Tu ; 
let  Esa  alone,  or  you  will  regret  it — for  a  short  time." 

"For  a  short  time?  What  do  you  mean,  little  one?" 

"I  mean — why,  I'll  have  aught  of  no  one  I  do  not  choose." 

"Nonsense;  only  with  me  could  you  come  near  to  realizing 
what  you  say.  With  others  whomsoever  you  would  remain  a 
driven  slave.  None  could  be  so  fond  of  you  as  Wa-Tu.  Come 
to  me,  beauty!"  and  a  long  taloned,  shriveled  yellow  hand 
clasped  her  slender  neck. 

But  only  for  an  instant  did  it  hold  the  shivering  little  figure, 
and  as  she  tore  herself  free  she  landed  him  a  kick  that  doub 
led  him  up  withpain  and  drew  from  him  ashriek  that  brought  Ina 
na  Manuk  and  others  from  the  outer  gallery. 

But  as  Wa-Tu  remained  half  doubled,  none  noticed  the  still 
trembling  Esa,  and  an  angry  explanation  by  the  Chino  that 
he  had  suffered  a  fall  by  catching  his  toe  on  a  mat  closed  the 
incident,  for  all  but  its  two  principals. 

Shortly  thereafter  the  council  was  resumed. 

"Tell  us,  Sabio,"  Datu  Linta  began,  "if  those  'Mergans  do 
not  war  for  plunder,  among  themselves  or  their  neighbors,  as 
you  have  been  telling  us,  then  why  are  they  come  here?" 

"I  cannot  yet  be  sure  myself,  Datus,"  Go-Peng  replied. 

"They  say  they  have  fought  the  Paddies  and  their  people 
against  their  will,  were  forced  into  warring  on  them  to  stop 

[  122] 


WA-TU'S  WOOING 

their  terrible  abuses  of  the  people  of  their  colonies,  beginning 
on  some  of  their  islands  near  to  the  'Mergans'  own  country. 

"They  pretend  that  now  they  have  freed  the  Filipinos  from 
Spanish  misrule,  they  will  leave  the  Islands  as  soon  as  they 
have  established  order  and  find  the  Filipinos  able  to  under 
take  their  own  government." 

"Battling  for  others  all  the  time!  That  beats  me,"  sneered 
Telecoco ;  "they  must  be  liars.  How  could  they  so  profit  them 
selves.  You  don't  believe  them,  do  you,  Sabio?" 

"Yes,  Datu,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  them.  When  the  'Mer 
gans  step  in  and  stop  misrule  among  their  neighbors  and  es 
tablish  orderly  government  according  to  their  theories,  they 
promote  growth  of  trade  and  prosperity  in  which  they  may 
share." 

"Ah,  but  as  you  have  explained  their  methods,  Telecoco  is 
right,"  said  Linta;  "others  may  share  with  them,  other  peo 
ples." 

"True.  But  no  two  peoples  profit  most  who  trade  alone  with 
each  other.  The  more  your  markets  are  crowded  with  buyers 
and  sellers,  no  matter  whence  they  come,  the  better. 

"Would  you  that  we  Chinos  should  go? 

"Are  not  both  you  and  the  Spaniards  better  off  for  our  deal 
ings  with  you?" 

"Y — es,"  hesitatingly  agreed  Telecoco,  "since  the  Paddies 
and  other  users  of  their  smoking  boats  have  stopped  us  from 
taking  by  force  of  arms  all  we  want  from  the  vessels  cruising 
our  waters.  One  can't  live  long  who  subsists  alone  on  his  own 
fat.  But  with  the  Paddies  smashed,  won't  our  time  come 
when  the  'Mergans  go?" 

"No,"  smiled  Go-Peng,  "for  they  cannot  leave,  while  true 
to  their  principles,  until  the  power  of  you  Datus  is  also  smashed, 
broken  beyond  chance  of  your  regaining  it." 

"You  mean  they  will  rob  us  of  our  authority,  free  our  slaves 
and  limit  every  man  to  one  wife?"  growled  Linta.  "Ha!  the 
dogs  of  unbelievers!  The  rivers  shall  run  blood  first.  Nor 
shall  they  win  so  long  as  my  Maratuns  can  swing  krises." 

"From  all  I  can  learn  of  their  work  in  Luzon,"  answered 

I  123] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

shrewd  old  Go-Peng,  "the  blood  that  reddens  your  rivers  will 
be  Moro  blood. 

"Take  care,  Datus.  Think.  Listen  to  your  old  friend. 

"They  are  terrible  in  war,  those  'Mergans.  Resist  them,  and 
you  perish. 

"Better  one  wife  than  none. 

"Better  give  up  slaves  and,  if  necessary,  work  to  feed  your 
selves  than  die  to  feed  the  vultures. 

"And  remember  your  brother  Telecoco  sees  merit  in  their 
practice  of  hiring  the  Monobo  slaves  they  need,  instead  of 
buying  them. 

"The  wise  among  you  may  better  so  profit." 


[  124] 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
BETTING  HUMAN  FLESH 

Pleasantly  enough  rolled  on  the  weeks  and  months  for  Esa 
with  Ina  na  Manuk.  Were  all  the  slavery  of  the  world  any 
thing  like  as  benign  as  hers,  better  a  thousand  times  that  all 
the  poor  of  the  world  were  numbered  among  the  property  of 
masters. 

Nor  were  the  lives  of  Usup  and  Lancona  materially  less 
pleasant  in  their  bondage.  Their  tasks  were  light,  always  were 
they  well  fed,  and  neither  by  Butu  nor  by  Ina  na  Manuk  were 
they  treated  with  anything  but  kindness. 

Indeed,  with  the  exception  of  the  lordlier  Datus,  such  was 
the  general  attitude  of  the  Moros  toward  their  slaves. 

But,  of  course,  no  bondage  is  so  light  it  does  not  gall  and  scar 
the  hearts  of  all  such  as  have  known  freedom. 

And  long  for  the  simple  delights  of  their  home  among  the 
whispering  tree  tops  and  beside  the  MalbuPs  singing  flood 
the  more  Esa  and  her  father  and  mother  did,  the  thicker  grew 
their  scars. 

Meantime,  Esa  was  progressing  wonderfully,  now  more  not 
ably  in  her  knowledge  of  pigeon  Spanish,  acquired  from  the 
Chinos. 

Always  were  the  Chino  traders  coming  and  going,  ranging 
up  and  down  the  Rio  Grande  and  its  tributaries. 

Of  these  Chinos,  old  Wa-Tu,  the  enamored,  was  the  most 
frequent  comer — and  the  longest  stayer. 

To  the  last  degree  that  such  a  shrewd  and  wise  old  trader  as 
he  could  permit  himself  to  become  irrational  about  anything, 
he  was  crazy  about  Esa. 

He  was  bound  to  have  her. 

But  withal,  Wa-Tu  was  greedy  and  cunning,  knew  how  to 
wait,  and  was  biding  his  time  for  a  bargain. 

Well  did  he  know  that  Ina  na  Manuk  had  not  been  educat- 

[125] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

ing  her  for  nothing,  and  would  be  certain  to  ask  him  a  very 
fancy  figure  if  he  approached  her  directly  with  an  offer. 

But  even  to  him  who  best  knows  how  to  wait,  seldom  come 
quickly  the  things  he  would  have. 

And  so  it  was  with  enamored  old  Wa-Tu. 

Meantime,  every  opportunity  that  offered  that  he  thought 
might  escape  the  vigilance  of  Ina  na  Manuk,  Wa-Tu  sought 
eagerly,  but  subtly,  to  win  Esa's  favor. 

But  all  to  no  purpose.  Never  did  she  seek  to  conceal  the  re 
pugnance  which  she  had  expressed  in  the  violent  kick  she  had 
given  her  old  lover  upon  the  occasion  of  his  first  wooing,  the 
afternoon  of  Go- Peng's  council  with  the  Datus. 

And  just  now  Esa  was  taking  great  satisfaction  in  the  fact 
that  certain  negotiations  were  about  to  mature,  a  situation 
wherein  she  felt  sure  she  would  have  the  satisfaction  of  see 
ing  old  Wa-Tu  heavily  bled  and  properly  humbled. 

For  months  past,  Ina  na  Manuk  nad  been  developing  and 
training  a  wonderful  new  fighting  cock  named  Musla  Manuk, 
meaning  "large  bird."  With  him  already  she  had  won  the 
championship  of  the  up-river  towns  by  a  long  and  bloody  bat 
tle  with  Lanang,  the  former  champion  of  the  river,  the  bird 
that  had  passed  from  her  to  Datu  Linta  when  Ina  na  Manuk 
bought  Esa  off  the  Ganta  slave  block. 

Now  Ina  na  Manuk  had  planned  a  battle  which,  should 
Musla  win  it,  would  give  him  the  championship  of  the  entire 
river. 

She  had  arranged  a  match  with  the  owner  of  Maitum  Man 
uk,  meaning  "strong  bird"  who  enjoyed  the  honors  of  cham 
pionship  of  the  lower  river,  and  whose  owner  happened  to  be 
-old  Wa-Tu. 

Always  an  inveterate  gambler  at  the  national  game  of  cock 
fighting  and  holding  supreme  confidence  in  Musla,  Ina  na 
Manuk  herself  was  ready  enough  to  stake  the  last  centavo  of 
the  family  wealth  on  the  issue  of  this  fight. 

But  this  Butu  would  not  permit.  More  timid  he  than  his 
wife,  he  held  her  original  bet  of  one  hundred  pesos  was  as 
heavy  a  hazard  on  the  bird  as  they  should  take.  To  be  sure, 


BETTING  HUMAN  FLESH 

Musla  was  a  wonder,  but  does  not  all  life  teach  us  that  vic 
tory  is  never  the  exclusive  prerogative  of  the  strong? 

In  most  things  Butu  was  heartily  indulgent  of  Ina  na  Man- 
uk,  but  when  it  came  to  her  gambling  his  discretion  gave  him 
strength  to  restrain  her. 

Not  another  centavo  of  bis  money  or  single  item  of  his  prop 
erty  should  she  bet. 

Ina  na  Manuk  was  peeved  by  Butu's  parsimony  but  she  did 
not  show  it.  Admittedly  the  hundred  pesos  would  be  a  hand 
some  winning. 

And  once  the  fight  with  Maitum  was  won,  Butu  would 
loosen  up,  doubtless,  and  let  her  back  the  next  fight  much 
more  liberally. 

So  now  the  family  were  off  in  their  vintas,  en  route  with  their 
champion  to  the  Inogug  market,  the  middle  point  agreed  on 
for  the  fight. 

The  crowds  that  assembled  at  Inogug  from  up  and  down 
river  points  to  see  the  fight  were  even  far  greater  than  those 
which  gathered  at  Datu  Linta's  slave  sale  at  Ganta.  Always 
could  a  slave  sale  bring  out  a  crowd,  but  never  is  a  match  be 
tween  the  champion  cocks  of  the  river  pulled  off  that  it  does 
not  pretty  well  empty  all  the  villages  and  rancherias  from 
Mt.  Apo  to  the  sea. 

For  centuries  cock  fighting  has  been  the  favorite  sport  among 
the  tribesmen  of  the  Islands,  was  current  there  away  back  in 
the  time  of  Magellan's  bold  voyagings. 

Among  the  cities  and  larger  towns  of  all  the  Islands  it  is  a 
source  of  important  revenue  to  the  municipal  treasuries. 

Never  was  it  discouraged  by  the  Paddies.  Indeed,  usually 
the  congregation  that  streamed  from  the  churches  direct  to 
the  cock  pits  frequently  saw  their  priest  fighting  a  bird  of 
his  own. 

At  cock  fighting  the  Moros  are  as  good,  clean  sportsmen  as 
any  in  the  world.  Win  or  lose,  good  feeling  always  prevails. 
Usually  betting  is  light,  but  on  occasions,  family  fortunes  are 
staked,  and  may  be  lost,  but  the  family  cheerfulness  and 
good  humor  are  preserved. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Doubtless  in  some  measure  the  holding  of  their  tempers  by 
the  losers  is  due  to  the  fact  that  all  the  population,  both  men 
and  women,  are  at  all  times  heavily  armed.  None  lacks  the 
flamy  kris  and  many  are  never  separated  from  their  heavy 
campilans. 

Where  all  are  armed,  and  the  precipitation  of  a  row  means 
more  or  less  wholesale  massacre,  people  think  twice  before 
starting  something. 

When  the  family  entered  the  cock  pit,  Ina  na  Manuk  ten 
derly  carrying  Musla  under  her  arm,  there  they  found  Wa- 
Tu  awaiting  them  with  Maitum. 

Squatted  facing  each  other,  the  owners  of  the  two  champions 
were  by  turns  stroking  and  fondling  their  respective  birds  or 
standingthemontheground,tostrengthen  their  legs  by  scratch 
ing  gravel  in  their  struggles  for  freedom  from  their  owner's 
tight  grip  of  the  tail. 

So  both  birds  were  played,  to  supple  their  muscles  and  stiffen 
their  tempers,  preliminary  to  battling,  after  which  they  were 
carefully  bathed  in  cold  water. 

Next,  the  long,  curved  spurs,  keen  edged  as  lances,  were  firmly 
lashed  to  their  heels. 

This  finished,  the  birds  were  submitted  to  the  inspection  of 
the  judges,  and  as  soon  as  their  approval  of  the  spurs  and  their 
lashing  was  had,  the  "Culuntungan"  was  sounded  and  the  fight 
was  on. 

Bold  of  their  pride  of  never  having  been  beaten,  Musla  and 
Maitum  lost  no  time  in  getting  down  to  close,  cunning  fence. 

Maitum  made  a  clever  feint  that  came  near  being  the  end  of 
Musla,  who  was  tempted  to  fly  at  his  enemy's  head,  with  pur 
pose  to  slash  his  throat;  but  his  attack  was  avoided,  and  be 
fore  he  could  recover  himself  Maitum's  spur  had  deeply  stabbed 
him  in  the  chest. 

Ha!  blood,  plenty  of  it! 

And  now  the  crowding  thousands  were  roaring  wildly  as  ever 
did  the  Roman  audiences  when  steel  began  to  clash  and  slash 
and  lives  to  ebb,  and  back  and  forth  at  each  other  partisans 


BETTING  HUMAN  FLESH 

were  shrieking  bets  and  the  owners  were  anxiously  crying  en 
couragement  to  their  respective  champions. 

Now  the  birds  were  fighting  wickedly,  but  coolly  and  cau 
tiously,  like  the  highly  trained  and  widely  experienced  swords 
men  they  were. 

Occasionally,  they  had  to  be  separated  and  rested. 

Not  even  their  mighty  lungs  could  stand  such  furiously  con 
tinuous  battling,  where  neither  gave  the  other  an  instant's 
pause  for  rest. 

Moreover,  wounds  were  coming  fast. 

And  shortly  speed  began  to  lessen. 

At  Maitum's  first  success  the  odds  shifted  to  him,  but  since 
Musla  had  steadied  down  to  unflinching,  desperate  fighting, 
the  odds  dropped,  and  now  not  even  the  oldest  cock  fighter  of 
all  the  Moros  dared  venture  odds  on  either  bird. 

And  through  it  all  Esa  was  having  the  time  of  her  life,  for  she 
had  come  to  love  the  sport  as  keenly  as  did  Ina  na  Manuk. 

As  the  pet  slave  of  the  owner  of  Musla,  little  Esa  was  pranc 
ing  wildly  about  the  ring,  calling  cheer  to  the  family  cham 
pion. 

And  her  cheers  and  those  of  Musla's  other  partisans  rose  to 
shrieks  of  delight  when  presently  Maitum  fell,  and  lay  upon 
the  reddened  sand  unable  to  rise,  blood  spurting  from  his  neck. 

Ha,  the  fight  was  won! 

Theirs  was  the  champion ! 

Musla :  their  beautiful  Musla  was  now  king  of  all  the  river 
cock  pits ! 

Musla !  Look  at  him ;  isn't  he  splendid !  Blood  streaming  from 
a  score  of  wounds,  but  still  squarely  on  his  feet,  weak,  obvious 
ly  very  weak,  his  head  drooping  and  his  eyes  dull,  but  still 
firmly  on  his  feet !  What  a  splendid  victory ! 

But — Look! 

What  is  that? 

Maitum  is  struggling  to  rise. 

Yes,  and  he  regains  his  feet  just  in  the  last  instant  before  he 
would  have  been  counted  out  and  Musla's  victory  declared ! 

[129] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

On  his  feet!  Fancy  it,  with  the  blood  still  spurting  from  his 
neck! 

A  miracle  it  may  sound  but  fact  it  is. 

Steadying  himself  a  moment,  the  mighty-hearted  Maitum 
wobbled  feebly  toward  the  drooping  Musla,  summoned  his  dy 
ing  energies,  and  with  a  last  lucky  spring  scored  a  spur  slash 
that  left  the  brave  Musla's  head  hanging  by  a  tiny  bit  of  skin ! 

So,  often,  are  the  fires  of  the  dearest  human  ambitions  in  an 
instant  burned  to  ashes ! 

But  of  the  family  of  Musla's  owner,  Ina  na  Manuk,  and  their 
partisans  and  backers,  none  took  their  defeat  in  the  least 
to  heart  except  Esa.  The  rest  accepted  their  losses  like  the 
thoroughly  good  sportsmen  they  were,  cheerfully  even. 

But  to  Esa  it  was  a  bitter  disappointment,  not  that  her  mis 
tress  should  fail  to  win,  but  because  she  had  hoped  to  see  the 
annoying  old  Wa-Tu  bled  of  his  silver  and  humbled  in  his 
pride. 

That  she  had  cause  for  any  deeper  interest  in  the  issue  of  the 
battle,  neither  Esa  nor  any  of  the  others  dreamed,  until  Butu 
approached  Ina  na  Manuk  and  smilingly  remarked: 

"Well,  old  mother,  you  see  Butu  was  wise.  The  best  cock 
has  his  day,  must  one  day  loose  his  laurels  to  his  better.  Now 
you'll  be  glad  Butu  refused  to  let  you  bet  more  than  the  hun 
dred  pesos,  I'm  thinking." 

"Yes,  Butu  was  wise,'  Ina  na  Manuk  replied,  with  a  brave 
attempt  at  a  broad  smile;  "but  when  he  forbade  me  to  bet 
more  of  his  property,  then  I  bet  mine.  That  Butu  did  not  for 
bid,  did  he?" 

"Why,  no,  old  mother;  but  what  did  you  bet?" 

"Well,  Butu  must  soon  know;  so  I  may  as  well  tell  him,  that 
against  three  hundred  of  Wa-Tu's  silver  pesos,  I  bet — Esa!" 

'  'Well  done ;  very  well  done,  old  mother — or  at  least  well  done  it 
would  be  were  we  winners,  for  that's  a  bigger  price  than  ever 
any  Monobo  girl  was  sold  for.  But — well,  maybe  it  will  make 
you  a  little  less  reckless  in  your  chicken  gambling  hereafter." 

But  whether  the  loss  of  Esa,  to  improve  whom  as  a  market 
able  commodity  Ina  na  Manuk  had  worked  so  hard  and  by 

[-30] 


BETTING  HUMAN  FLESH 

whose  ultimate  sale  she  had  expected  to  realize  so  much,  served 
to  restrain  her  in  her  gambling  or  not,  certain  it  was  that  it 
convinced  her  that  the  betting  of  human  flesh  was  not  unat 
tended  by  peril. 

One  glance  at  Esa  had  sufficed  to  bring  her  to  that  conclu 
sion,  for  since,  standing  near  them,  she  had  heard  of  her  loss 
to  Wa-Tu,  the  girl's  face  blazed  with  anger  and  hatred  of  the 
bitterest. 

Indeed,  that  one  glance  doubtless  saved  somebody's  life,  for 
it  forewarned  her  against  the  tiger  spring  Esa  presently  made 
and  the  fierce  snatch  she  made  at  the  kris  handle  in  Ina  na 
Manuk's  girdle. 

And  when,  with  Butu's  help,  Esa  was  overpowered,  and  he 
dragged  her  across  the  arena  to  old  Wa-Tu,  Butu  remarked: 

"Here's  the  rest  of  your  winnings,  Chino — and  look  out  they 
don't  bite  you !" 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

A  HUNGER  FOR  TENDERNESS 

Poor  Tony  Trigg ! 

The  simplest,  sweetest,  and  soundest  of  one  of  the  most  at 
tractive  types  of  plain,  garden  variety  of  man,  normal,  warm, 
human! 

Vulgarly  strong  and  healthy,  handsome  as  a  lean  young  Vi 
king,  riotously  affectionate  as  the  sunny-hearted  merry  are 
ever  apt  to  be,  craving  tenderness  and  caresses  as  the  dower 
right  from  Mother  Nature  they  indeed  are  for  all  such  as  he, 
few  indeed  are  the  women  the  wide  world  round  who,  with 
half  a  color  of  right ,  or  even  of  slim  excuse,  would  not  be  fondling 
him — crushing  him  with  embraces,  smothering  him  with 
kisses. 

Love?  Heavens,  the  man  had  love  enough  in  his  system  to 
do  a  score  of  women,  and  do  them  all  well — scant  measure  to 
none. 

Love?  Why,  his  big,  unselfish  nature  was  so  surcharged  with 
it  that  the  tiniest  scrap  of  it  would  be  more  love  than  most 
women  ever  come  to  know. 

And  now  all  of  it,  in  one  great,  warm,  unbroken  wave,  was 
breaking  and  chilling  on  the  frozen  coast  line  of  Ruth  SnelPs 
frigid  personality. 

God,  but  it  was  a  tragedy. 

He  had  so  much  to  give  and  she  so  little. 

Better  a  thousand  times  pour  out  living  affections  at  the 
shrine  of  the  cherished  dead. 

And  it  was  all  so  unfair — unjust,  unequal. 

It  was  all  give  and  no  take. 

And  ever  must  it  so  remain ;  never  may  one  take  what  does 
not  exist. 

For  Ruth's  nature  was  as  barren  of  love  as  are  frozen  wastes 
of  flowers. 

But  this,  of  course,  Tony  did  not  yet  actually  know. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Even  something  of  the  frank  confiding  of  a  warm  friendship, 
wherein  worries  are  outpoured  for  sympathy  and  sympathy 
subtly  divines  and  solaces  unexpressed  anxieties,  might  have 
sufficed  him. 

Who  knows?  None  may  tell  for  sure  what  would  suffice 
another.  But  Tony  was  so  wholly  unselfish  that  perhaps  even 
that  much  would  have  done  for  him — would  have  answered 
to  leave  him  entirely  content  in  his  love  for  Ruth. 

But  through  the  long  months  of  their  daily  association  and 
the  many  weeks  of  the  closer  intimacy  of  their  engagement, 
all  his  joy  of  her  was  such  as  he  got  of  his  love  of  seeing  and 
serving  her — her  only  concession,  a  quiet,  contented  toler 
ance  of  his  presence. 

Nevertheless,  if  Tony  only  knew  it,  which,  of  course  he 
didn't,  such  concession  was  infinitely  more  than  she  had  ever 
granted  to  any  other  man — or  to  any  woman  or  child,  for 
that  matter. 

And  just  herein  lay  the  biggest  tragedy  of  all — the  fact  of 
Ruth's  sheer  poverty. 

To  Tony  she  was  honestly  giving  all  she  had  to  give — her 
self  as  ignorant  of  her  pitiful  destitution  as  was  he ! 

Meantime,  Tony  was  hungering  and  thirsting  for  tender 
ness,  for  the  caresses  that  make  the  love  of  a  man  and  a  maid 
the  most  infinite  bliss  this  old,  old  world  has  yet  managed  to 
afford,  the  caresses  that  are  the  pledge  of  ultimate  fulfillment. 

He  was  crazy  to  hold  her  in  his  arms  and  seal  his  lips  on  hers. 

He  was  wild  to  plunge  his  face  into  the  waves  of  her  hair  and 
there,  so  submerged,  ever  to  leave  it.  Drown?  Ah,  yes,  to  be 
sure,  he  might.  But  why  not?  What  death  could  be  happier? 

He  wanted  her  beside  him  for  hours,  and  hours  and  hours 
out  in  the  velvety  blue  tropical  night,  seated  within  the 
shadows  of  the  platanos,  his  arm  around  her  waist,  her  cheek 
cuddled  close  to  his,  silent  both,  but  brains  aflame  with  dreams 
— of  their  future  together. 

He  was  crazy  to  put  her  in  a  vinta  and  push  out  into  the  se 
clusion  of  the  pearl-gray  mists  of  the  river,  and  therein,  re 
clined  at  her  dear  feet  and  hidden  from  all  the  world  as  com- 


A  HUNGER  FOR  TENDERNESS 

pletely  as  if  they  were  the  only  tenants  of  a  planet,  to  drift — 
and  drift,  and  drift. 

Instead  of  all  which,  poor  Tony  had  to  content  himself  with 
— what?  With  placid  smiles  of  approval  of  his  untiring  ser 
vices  and  attentions  and  with  the  touch  now  and  then  of  fin 
ger  tips  that  lay  in  his  for  a  moment  just  as  still  and  cold  and 
expressionless  as  if  they  belonged  to  a  dead  hand! 

Poor  Tony! 

And,  of  course,  he  was  quite  too  much  in  love  to  reason  on  the 
subject.  Instead,  he  just  loved  on — and  hoped. 

Tonight  he  was  so  loving  and  hoping,  as  they  lounged  in  the 
long  chairs  on  her  gallery,  when  he  pleadingly  asked : 

"May  I  not  hold  your  hand,  please,  sweetheart?" 

"But  now  why  should  you  hold  my  hand,  Tony?  The  fact 
is  I'm  rather  tired  of  an  unusually  vexing  day  in  school.'* 

"Why,  darling?  My  God,  because  I  love  you,  and  want  many 
things  you  never  give  me.  Silly  beggar,  you  seem  to  think  me, 
but  you'd  never  so  hold,  dear,  I'm  sure,  if  you  loved  me  as 
much  as  I  love  you.  And  sometimes  I'm  almost  wondering, 
I'm  bound  to  tell  you,  dear,  whether  you  really  love  me  at 
all." 

"Love  you,  Tony?  Why,  of  course  I  love  you.  Most  assured 
ly.  How  can  you  doubt  it?  You  have  my  plighted  word.  And 
you  know  I'm  a  serious  girl,  never  given  to  trifling  on  any 
subject." 

"Know  it,  darling!  Of  course  I  know  it.  And  that's  just  the 
trouble,  maybe,  you're  too  d — ,  — well,  you're  too  serious 
to — well,  to  stay  healthy,  mentally  healthy,  I  mean." 

"Why,  boy,  whatever  are  you  trying  to  express?" 

"Oh,  Ruth,  it's  so  hard  for  me  to  say.  To  me  you  are  as 
beautiful  as  a  divine  spirit,  and  sometimes  I  can't  help  fear 
ing  you  will  always  remain  to  me  as  hopelessly  intangible  as 
one." 

"Intangible?  Tony,  intangible?" 

"Just  that,  Ruth,  dear.  Love,  full  grown  love,  is  no  wobbling 
weakling;  it's  an  eager  athlete  that  wants  to  seize  and  grip 
and  crush,  tenderly  crush,  and  make  its  object  know  it's 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

alive,  and  strong,  very  strong,  incapable  of  exhaustion,  an 
athlete  that  wants  to  grip  and  never  let  go.  Anyway,  that's 
what  a  man's  love  is — and  what  it  seems  to  me  a  girl's  love 
must  be,  when  it's  full  grown.  Look  at  Cupid,  Ruth;  you  could 
never  think  of  him  as  cold,  or  of  his  tug  at  his  bow  string  as 
anything  but  firm  and  strong." 

"Ah,  Tony,"  Ruth  answered,  "you  are  more  trying  than  the 
wildest  of  my  little  pagan  wards.  By  all  the  higher  sciences 
teach  us,  shall  I  never  be  able  to  prevail  upon  you  to  see  life 
and  live  it  in  harmony  with  their  lofty  teachings?" 

"Lofty!  That's  it,  dear.  You're  always  mentally  cruising 
outside  of  my  atmosphere,  for  I'm  of  the  earth,  earthy,  loving 
the  sun  that  warms  it,  the  soft  lapping  waves  that  tenderly 
kiss  it,  the  grass  and  the  trees  that  clothe  it,  the  flowers  that 
adorn  it,  the  warm,  throbbing  life  it  cradles.  Just  a  very  sim 
ple,  commonplace  type  of  a  man,  you  see,  content  where  he's 
been  put,  enjoying  his  work  and  his  play  and  knowing  pretty 
well  where  he  is  at  as  long  as  he  can  feel  soft,  warm  soil  under 
his  heels." 

And  then,  after  a  short  pause  and  a  deep  sigh,  added : 

"My  misfortune,  of  course.  Must  be  jolly  fine,  I  suppose, 
up  there  high  aloft  of  everybody  where  you  live,  sweet,  but 
it's  all  strange  country  to  me;  and,  dear,  please,  I  think  I'd 
rather  you'd  not  try  to  take  me  up  there — can't  imagine 
there's  anything  up  among  the  clouds  to  grip  and  tussle  with." 

"My  dear  boy,  I'm  afraid  all  your  views  of  life  are  crude  and 
archaic  as — yes,  I  may  as  well  say  it,  as  crude  as  those  of  a 
cave  man.  You  dear,  big  battler,  you've  always  got  to  be 
gripping  things,  haven't  you?  If  you  did  not  so  tenderly  tend 
the  flowers  you  have  banked  thick  around  your  quarters  and 
were  not  ever  so  kindly  considerate  and  thoughtful  of  me,  I 
should  think  your  only  joy  in  life  was  in  seizing  and  crushing 
or  smothering  things.  Really,  dear,  you're  hard  for  me  to  un 
derstand,  sometimes." 

"Me?  Christmas,  Ruth,  I'm  simple  as  a  primer.  Guess  that's 
just  the  trouble;  you  can't  manage  to  think  down  in  my  raw 
terms." 


A  HUNGER  FOR  TENDERNESS 

"Down,  Tony,  down?"  and  for  a  moment  the  beautiful  face 
wore  perhaps  the  nearest  approach  to  a  wistful  expression  he 
had  ever  seen  on  it,  and  when  she  resumed  her  voice  was  very- 
low;  "Down?  Ah,  dear,  sometimes  you  have  me  wondering 
whether  you  are  not  the  soarer  and  I  the  groveller!  Raw!  Yes, 
of  course  you're  raw,  rude  in  your  strength,  but  you're  the 
bravest,  merriest,  truest  and  most  unselfish  soul  I  have  ever 
known." 

"Shucks,  Ruth- 

"But,  Tony,  you're  all  that.  And  it  is  only  right  I  should  tell 
you  you're  the  only  man  I've  ever  taken  even  the  most  casual 
interest  in.  Everyone  who  knows  you  loves  you,  and  I,  well 
from  the  first  your  love  has  been  a  torrent  I  could  not  stem  if 
I  would,  but  it  is  a  torrent  that  does  not  sweep  me  on  so  fast 
that  the  way  is  not  illuminated  by  the  lights  of  reason." 

"Lights  of  reason  be — be  blessed,  my  darling.  Whatever  the 
deuce  have  the  lights  of  reason  to  do  with  love?  Not  the 
brightest  ray  of  reason's  most  blinding  beams  may  ever  pene 
trate  the  dusky  dingles  where  all  great  loves  haunt  and  Drood 
when  not  bathed  in  that  glorious  effulgence  of  realization 
that  pales  reason's  light  and  would  blind  the  very  sun." 

"Ah,  Tony,  true  enough  it  is  that  gloom  shrouded  all  things 
until  the  lamps  of  reason  were  lighted,  material  and  spiritual 
alike.  Mankind  were  blind  gropers  among  awesome  mysteries 
until,  fused  by  the  white  heat  of  reason's  light  into  their  com 
ponent  parts,  most  of  the  mysteries  of  life  now  stand  revealed, 
among  them  love  as  well,  at  least  measurably  revealed. 

"Love!  Tony,  why  a  saw  old  as  time  has  it  that  love  begets 
love.  But  nothing  of  the  sort.  Love  is  a  toxin  atom  that,  ac 
tive  in  one,  seizes  upon  another,  feebly  resistant  of  its  attack, 
possesses  and  infects  it.  Doubtless,  one  day,  shortly,  the  men 
tal  microscopists  will  have  its  bacilli  isolated,  and  perhaps — 
who  knows — will  discover  some  protective  countervailing 
germ." 

For  some  time  Tony  sat  staring  at  Ruth  in  stark  agitation 
that  nearly  approached  terror.  Her  usually  calm  violet  eyes 
were  now  blazing  with — good  God,  could  it  be  madness? 

[137] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

But  presently  he  steadied,  with  realization  that  it  was  only 
an  unusual  manifestation  of  the  hyper-sanity  that,  he  was 
beginning  to  dimly  suspect,  kept  all  the  blood  in  Ruth's  sys 
tem  busy  in  her  brain. 

There  really  wasn't  much  to  answer.  But  as  the  big  curly- 
haired  captain  rose  to  take  his  leave,  prey  to  his  hunger  for 
caresses,  he  extended  his  arms  toward  her  and  softly  pleaded. 

"Won't  you  come  to  me,  my  love?" 

"What,  Tony,"  Ruth  quietly  answered,  looking  up  at  him 
with  an  expression  of  mild  reproach;  "what?  An  embrace, 
you  mean?  Nonsense,  boy;  an  embrace  is  a  deplorable  waste 
of  energy,  no  more.  You  need  to  conserve  all  your  energies 
for  your  campaigns,  I,  mine  for  my  school  work.  This  climate 
is  50  exhausting  of  the  strength  that  we  must  conserve  our 
forces." 

"But  just  one  little  kiss,  dear?"  Tony  gently  persisted. 

"Now  you  big,  stupid  child,"  Ruth  calmly  smiled,  "how 
many  times  must  I  tell  you  that  kisses  are  nothing  but  con 
veyors  of  disease  germs!" 

"Well,  Ruth,"  Tony  wearily  answered,  "I  guess  one  time 
will  about  do  for  tonight,  so  buenas  nocbes,  and  I'm  off." 


[138] 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 
WA-TU'S  BLUNDER 

In  the  Moro  Provinces,  Prosperity  implies  Slavery  and  Po 
lygamy. 

At  least  to  the  extent  that  the  Criminal  Rich  of  the  Moro 
Islands  are  slave  owners  and  sport  harems. 

Which  goes  to  show  two  interesting  facts;  first,  that  neither 
latitude  nor  longitude  serve  to  widely  differentiate  humanity; 
and,  secondly,  that,  while  regarded  by  us  as  crude  savages, 
nevertheless,  the  Moros  are  close  prototypes  of  that  con 
spicuous  class  among  ourselves  which  Go-Peng  described  as 
"Lords  by  Money  Right." 

And,  therefore,  by  such  as  may  know  that  the  Chinos  are 
foremost  among  the  Captains  of  Predatory  Industry  in  Min 
danao,  it  will  be  rightly  assumed  that  they  are  its  most  active 
slave  dealers  and  by  no  means  its  least  busy  polygamists,  and 
in  their  treatment  of  their  women  and  their  slaves  never  are 
they  notably  tender  and  seldom  even  humane. 

Which  goes  far  toward  proving  another  interesting  fact — 
that  for  any  woman  who  is  not  best  satisfied  to  begin  and  end 
her  career  as  a  more  or  less  fascinating  and  seductive  exhibi 
tor  and  purveyor  of  feminine  physical  charms,  but  who  in 
stead  fancies  she  might  get  deeper  draughts  of  the  sweeter 
joys  of  life  by  alliance  with  one  man  likely  to  sit  tight  and 
ride  straight  with  her,  better  a  thousand  times  that  she  be 
come  the  helpmate  of  the  poorest  Monobo  or  'Mergan  slave 
than  the  lawful  wife  of  a  rich  polygamist. 

For,  of  course,  the  Chinos,  like  all  the  polygamists,  have 
their  lawful  wives,  who,  as  is  also  customary  elsewhere,  are 
usually  women  of  their  own  race. 

And  it  was  to  the  vigilance  if  not  the  overkindly  care  of  his 
Chino  wife  that  Wa-Tu  committed  Esa,  the  long  coveted 
prize  his  valiant  bird  Maitum  had  won  for  him  at  the  Inogug 
market. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Her  feelings  in  the  matter,  those  of  his  Chino  wife? 

To  Wa-Tu,  rightly  enough,  her  feelings  were  occasion  for  no 
concern.  If  she  had  ever  indulged  feelings  on  the  subject, 
doubtless  long  ago  they  had  been  case-hardened  by  her  cus 
tody  of  Esa's  many  predecessors,  of  all  breeds,  ages  and  colors, 
whom  Wa-Tu's  broadly  catholic  tastes  had  led  him  to  acquire 
and  commit  to  her  charge. 

But  probably  she  had  no  feelings  at  all  on  the  subject,  no 
resentment,  no  sense  of  suffering  a  wrong  or  outrage.  For  be 
it  remembered,  that  where  polygamy  is  an  openly  established 
and  recognized  institution,  there  the  ladies  enjoy  a  great  ad 
vantage  over  most  of  their  white  sisters  of — civilization. 

There  women  know  the  brevity  of  their  day  and  make  the 
best  of  it  while  it  lasts ;  here  women  seldom  fail  to  make  the 
best  of  their  day,  but  still  labor  under  distressing  illusions  re 
specting  its  brevity. 

There  they  know  that  the  thumbed  and  dog-eared  pack  must 
inevitably  make  way  for  a  fresh  pack;  here,  they  don't. 

At  least,  none  here  know  it  save  such  as  go  into  training  for 
an  alliance  with  some  Lord  of  Money  Right,  the  girls  who  in 
evitably  early  learn  to  cherish  no  illusions  respecting  fidelity 
and  hence  remain  immune  to  sense  of  injury  or  grief  where 
they  find  it  lacking. 

As  for  Esa's  feelings,  by  the  local  code  she  was  not  entitled 
to  have  any  of  her  own.  Honored  by  her  master's  favors,  it 
should  be  a  joy  to  her  to  pleasure  him. 

Only  in  her  case,  shrewd  old  Wa-Tu  well  knew  he  could 
count  on  nothing  of  the  sort.  To  him  she  was  a  new  species, 
and  he  was  much  too  cunning  a  dickerer  and  diplomat  not  to 
realize  she  would  be  better  dealt  with  along  new  lines.  She 
should  mellow  better  by  cozening  than  by  compelling. 

Thus  her  first  few  weeks  in  the  Wa-Tu  household  made  a 
period  of  ease  and  luxury  she  had  never  known. 

And  so  far  she  enjoyed  herself  hugely,  for  she  would  have 
been  less  even  than  a  savage  maid  if  she  had  not  found  delight  in 
the  brilliant-hued,  filmy  stuffs  in  which  the  Chino  wife  decked 

I 


WA-TU'S  BLUNDER 

her  and  in  the  gleaming  bangles  and  chains  with  which  Wa- 
Tu  loaded  her. 

And,  of  course,  it  was  nice  to  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  feed 
generously  and  to  preen  and  admire  herself. 

Only  the  trammeling  of  the  clothes  was  a  nuisance — a  nui 
sance  she  never  got  used  to  and  always  resented  to  the  end 
of — well,  to  the  end. 

But  while  the  clothes  were  hot  and  most  annoyingly  re 
strictive  of  the  free  movement  of  a  maid  always  accustomed 
to  go  nearly  naked,  still  they  were  lovely  to  look  at  and  to 
have. 

And  throughout  this  period  Wa-Tu  as  a  lover  was  a  highly 
ornate  work  of  art,  all  gentleness  and  consideration.  Had  she 
been  a  princess  of  the  Ming  Dynasty,  he  could  not  have  treated 
her  with  more  consideration. 

And  so  good  was  his  memory  of  the  violent  kick  Esa  had 
given  him  on  the  day  of  his  first  wooing  of  her,  that  through 
this  stage  of  his  courtship  he  ventured  on  no  familiarities. 

He  knew  something  of  this  world  and  its  people,  not  so  much  as 
his  brother,  the  great  scholar,  Go-Peng,  but  enough  to  feel 
sure  in  his  own  mind  that  no  girl  could  long  withhold  her 
kindness  from  one  who  so  generously  showered  her  with  lux 
uries. 

But  the  weary  weeks  that  he  waited,  and  smirked,  and 
wheedled,  brought  no  change  in  Esa;  so  utterly  he  failed  that 
one  day  his  really  broad  knowledge  of  human  nature  brought 
him  to  a  rude  awakening. 

What  a  fool  he  was ! 

Having  money,  he  could  buy;  having  power,  he  could  take; 
but  how  could  such  a  shriveled  old  scrap  of  yellow  parchment 
as  he  hope  ever  to  win  voluntary  tenderness  from  any  young 
girl? 

He  was  wasting  his  time. 

She  was  wearing  out  his  silks. 

The  gilding  would  be  wearing  off  the  bangles  and  chains 
with  which  he  had  adorned  her. 

Wa-Tu  was  indeed  a  fool. 

[  141  ] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

He  was  wasting  time — and  the  older  one  is,  the  less  time  he 
has  to  waste. 

And  like  a  bolt  out  of  a  clear  sky  Wa-Tu's  awakening  be 
came  communicated  to  Esa. 

One  morning  the  Chino  wife  stripped  her  of  all  her  fineries 
and  put  her  among  the  rudest  household  slaves  and  at  its 
meanest  tasks. 

From  the  most  envied  of  all  the  household,  she  had  become 
its  rawest  jest. 

Was  there  ever  such  an  idiot  of  a  girl? 

Ha,  what  girl  or  woman  of  all  the  river  side  would  not  jump 
at  the  privilege  of  being  showered,  as  was  she,  with  the  fin 
eries  of  old  Wa-Tu? 

But  while  none  were  backward  in  telling  her  plainly  what 
they  thought,  on  Esa  their  views  had  no  effect. 

Disciplined  in  a  measure  by  her  life  with  Ina  na  Manuk,  she 
accepted  her  tasks.  The  several  weeks  so  passed  were  black 
and  hateful  weeks  to  her. 

But  when  the  Chino  wife  plainly  told  her  that  if  she  would 
accept  the  preferred  place  in  the  harem  Wa-Tu  desired  her  to 
occupy,  she  would  be  restored  to  all  the  luxuries  of  which  she 
had  been  deprived,  Esa  simply  answered : 

"I  will  have  no  man  save  of  my  own  choosing,  and  him  I  will 
kill  before  I'll  share  him  with  another." 

Whereupon,  acting,  of  course,  under  Wa-Tu's  instructions, 
the  Chino  wife  had  her  seized  by  others  of  the  household,  evi 
dently  preadvised  to  be  ready,  and  began  beating  her  with  a 
bamboo  stick. 

Like  the  now  madly  insane  little  wild  young  thing  she  was, 
Esa  desperately  fought,  scratching,  gouging,  tearing  hand- 
fuls  of  hair  from  her  detainers. 

But  all  to  no  purpose. 

They  were  too  many  for  her. 

And  finally  she  fell,  bleeding  pitifully  and  too  weak  to  rise. 

Throughout  the  night  Esa  lay  still  in  the  corner  where  she 
had  been  dragged,  helpless  of  her  hurts,  but  the  afternoon  of 

[  142] 


WA-TU'S  BLUNDER 

the  following  day,  recovered  sufficiently  to  be  up  and  about, 
she  came  to  the  Chino  wife  and  very  humbly  said: 

"Enough;  I  have  had  enough.  I  am  Wa-Tu's  slave.  It  is  for 
him  to  do  with  me  as  he  pleases.  I  submit." 

"You  will  go  willingly? 

"Willingly." 

"When?" 

"Tonight." 

"Ah,  so,"  smiled  the  Chino  wife;  "that's  better;  that  will  do. 
They  all  come  to  their  senses  sooner  or  later.  And  now  to 
dress  and  deck  you  for  Wa-Tu's  favor." 

Whereupon  Esa  was  bathed,  lotioned,  scented,  tricked  out 
in  silks  and  again  loaded  with  the  gleaming  bangles  and 
chains. 

And  maybe  that  was  not  a  joyous  afternoon  for  old  Wa-Tu ! 

Certainly,  it  was  altogether  quite  the  reddest  red-letter  day 
of  his  age  if  not  of  his  entire  life. 

For,  remember,  he  had  permitted  himself  to  become,  in  his 
oriental  way,  as  madly  enamored  of  Esa  as  ever  in  his  youth 
of  any  of  the  daintiest  beauties  of  his  native  land. 

Long  had  he  wanted  her,  and  now,  at  last,  he  was  to  have 
her. 

Oh  joy  of  joys ! 

And  all  the  afternoon  he  was  capering  about  so  giddily  that 
he  even  had  the  misfortune  to  break  the  two-inch  little  finger 
nail  cultivated  by  all  Datus  and  Chinos  as  the  insignia  of 
their  independence  of  all  forms  of  manual  labor. 

But  why  worry  over  even  the  loss  of  one's  insignia  of  gen 
tility  when  the  sun  is  sinking  into  the  rice  paddies  and  the 
evening  of  his  honeymoon  is  at  hand? 

Wa-Tu  didn't  care.  Why  should  he? 

He  could  grow  another  little  finger  nail,  but  was  he  likely 
ever  to  be  vouchsafed  such  another  delightful  honeymoon? 

Grieve  over  the  finger  nail?  Nonsense.  Tonight  he  would  be 
merry — how  could  one  be  aught  else  but  merry  on  a  night  that 
promised  him  nothing  but  bliss? 

But  shrewd  old  Wa-Tu  had  blundered.  He  had  made  the 

[  143] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

most  irretrievably  fatal  blunder  of  his  life — one  that  it  was 
never  given  him  to  regret  and  try  to  correct. 

For  once  his  keen  judgment  of  human  nature  had  been  at 
fault. 

He  had  failed  to  remember  that  by  no  means  all  wills  that 
bend  are  broken. 

He  had  ignored  a  fact  that  none  knew  better  than  he,  that 
few  feminine  minds  are  incapable  of  dissimulation. 


[144] 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 
WA-TU'S  HONEYMOON 

It  was  the  early  evening  of  old  Wa-Tu's  honeymoon. 

He  was  there. 

And  so  was  the  moon. 

But  the  honey  was  gone. 

However,  that  didn't  matter  to  Wa-Tu ;  he  was  not  caring  a 
centavo. 

Of  course,  the  reader  will  remember  that  Wa-Tu  had  blun 
dered,  and  knows  that  all  who  blunder  must  pay,  but  occa 
sionally  blunderers  are  spared  regrets. 

So  it  was  with  Wa-Tu  in  the  matter  of  his  honeymoon. 

Sometimes  the  gods  are  good  to  us,  even  the  weird  symbols 
of  divinity  Chinos  bow  down  to,  and  abstract  us  from  con 
templation  of  our  blunders  and  the  disappointments  and  griefs 
they  bring. 

Which  was  especially  fortunate  in  Wa-Tu's  case,  for  other 
wise  time  to  grow  many  yards  of  new  little  fingernail  must 
have  elapsed  before  his  recovery  from  the  shock  of  the  loss  of 
his  honey — at  least  sufficiently  to  find  heart  to  be  casting  about 
for  attractive  material  for  a  new  honeymoon. 

And  the  honey? 

Little  Esa,  whose  voluptuous  beauty  and  wild  grace  had  set 
desire  gnawing  him? 

Where  was  she? 

Ask  the  cool  breezes  blowing  down  from  Mt.  Apo.  Maybe 
they  can  tell. 

Or — ah,  yes,  far  better  ask  the  Luciernagas,  the  giant  fire 
flies  of  the  tropics.  Who  so  surely  as  they  must  know?  Not 
even  the  rtiost  sinister  slinker  among  the  shadows  of  the  night 
can  escape  their  bright-blinking  lamps ! 

Ah,  there  comes  a  big  Luciernaga  from  up  river.  Let's  ask 
him. 

To  be  sure;  no  mistake  that  time.  Scored  the  first  shot. 

1  145] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Stealing  through  the  pearl-grey  mists  that  shroud  the  river, 
sticking  tight  within  the  shadow  of  the  bank,  swiftly  sweep 
ing  up  stream  on  the  flooding  tide  and  driving  the  faster  of 
all  the  force  her  sinewy  arms  were  able  to  put  into  rapid  pad 
dle  strokes,  Esa  had  nearly  escaped  him. 

But  once  he  had  seen  her,  the  strangeness  of  a  maid  paddling  so 
desperately  through  the  night  had  so  roused  the  Luciernagas 
curiosity  that  he  had  hovered  near  and  overheard  her  talk 
ing  softly  to  herself. 

"There's  no  doubt  about  it,"  she  had  said,  "powerful  as  is 
the  Ingorandy  magic  among  our  own  people,  it  is  just  of  no 
avail  at  all  against  these  Moros  and  Chinos. 

"Through  the  weeks  that  they  were  good  to  me  at  Wa-Tu's, 
as  well  as  through  the  weeks  that  they  made  me  labor  and 
beat  me,  I  prayed  and  prayed  to  Dewata  and  invoked  Too- 
mulkun,  Busau  and  the  Limbings  to  succour  me.  But  to  no 
purpose.  They  did  not  respond. 

"Ha!  Had  they  come,  it  would  have  been  so  easy. 

"One  flutter  of  the  blood-red  wings  of  Toomulkun,  one  shrill 
whirr  of  the  enormous  black  wings  of  Busau,  one  brief  ap 
pearance  of  the  limping  Munowog  or  of  any  of  the  frightful 
little  Limbings,  and  all  the  Chinos  would  have  scattered  through 
the  rice  paddys,  leaving  Esa  free. 

"And  the  hideous,  hateful  old  bag  of  bones,  Wa-Tu,  he  was 
too  old  to  run  and  the  Limbings  would  have  swarmed  over 
him  to  his  suffocation. 

"Yes,  for  any  of  our  gods  all  this  would  have  been  so  easy. 

"They  must  be  afraid  of  the  Chinos*  magic. 

"Strange,  strange!  I  must  always  remember  that  when  I 
get  back  to  Pugsan.  And  then  I  may  be  more  powerful  than 
any  ruler  the  Monobos  ever  had. 

"Fancy!  Our  Monobos  fear  Dewata  and  his  lesser  gods  more 
than  anything  else,  and  pay,  how  heavily  they  pay  Usup  to 
beseech  for  them  Dewata 's  aid  and  mercy. 

"The  fools! 

"For  I,  Esa,  child  of  Usup  and  Lancona,  have  come  to  know 
for  sure  that  the  magic  of  Lancona,  the  medicine  woman,  the 


WA-TU'S  HONEYMOON 

magic  that  she  gets  from  the  trees  and  herbs  of  the  forest,  is 
far  more  powerful  than  all  the  magic  of  Usup,  the  great  In- 
gorandy,  and  of  Dewata  and  all  the  minor  gods  Usup  invokes. 

"Ah,  Lancona's  magic  never  fails — never,  never  fails. 

'  'And  I ,  Esa,  /  know  that  magic,  and  I ,  Esa,  am  more  powerful 
than  Lancona,  for  she  does  not  know  her  magic  is  so  much 
stronger  than  that  of  Usup. 

"Yes,  yes,  and  I  must  be  very  careful  to  guard  the  magic  I 
keep  always  hidden  in  my  waist  cloth,  the  tiny  little  packages — 
the  ones  I  had  so  much  difficulty  hiding  from  that  Chino  wom 
an  when  she  was  making  me  wear  those  beautiful  Chino 
things. 

"Huh !  Isn't  it  lucky  so  little  of  the  magic  serves ! 

"Just  a  few  tiny  grains,  rightly  used,  and  all  your  troubles 
vanish. 

"Ho,  ho!  It  makes  me  laugh. 

"That  foolish  old  Wa-Tu,  brother  of  the  big  Chino  Pundi- 
ta,  one  of  the  most  powerful  of  all  his  people!  Ha,  the  old 
fool  thought  he  had  Esa  at  his  mercy,  to  play  with  and  to 
make  do  just  what  he  liked. 

"But  he  didn't  know  the  heart  of  Esa. 

"Share  her  man  with  a  lot  of  other  women!  Never,  never. 

"Esa  would  die  first,  if  it  were  necessary  to  save  her  from 
such  a  horrid  fate. 

"But  never  need  she  die  to  save  herself  while  she  has  handy 
some  of  Lancona's  splendid  magic. 

"Foolish  old  Wa-Tu! 

"Now  the  women  of  his  harem  are  tearing  their  hair  and  the 
children  screaming  their  grief! 

"Ah,  Esa  can  see  him  eating  his  rice  and  then  sipping  his 
tea,  the  tea  into  which  I  slipped  a  few  grains  of  the  magic 
that  makes  Esa  more  powerful  than  all  the  Ingorandys  and  all 
the  gods  of  Mt.  Apo ! 

"One  sip  of  the  tea,  or  two  or  three  sips  at  the  most,  and  then,  af 
ter  a  moment  of  writhing  on  his  mat  and  grippings  at  his  fast 
slowing  heart,  old  Wa-Tu  straightens  and  lays  stnl ! 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"And  so  shall  die  all  who  ever  injure  Esa  or  seek  to  force  her 
to  do  their  will!" 

It  was  out  of  the  pearl-grey  mists  that  ever  of  nights  shroud  the 
yellow  flood  of  the  Rio  Grande,  and  shortly  before  the  dawn, 
that  Esa  steered  her  vinta  in  among  those  of  Butu,  and  landed. 

And  when,  shortly  after  the  family  were  astir,  she  entered 
the  house,  it  was  perhaps  one  of  the  greatest  surprises  they 
ever  had. 

"How's  this,  girl;  what  are  you  doing  here?"  Ina  na  Manuk 
asked. 

"I  have  left  Wa-Tu,  and  have  come  back  to  you  to  stay." 

"But  you  are  his  slave,  girl." 

"Yes,  I  was,  but  Wa-Tu  was — sick — and  perhaps  he  did  not 
get  well.  I  ran  away — and  I  come  to  stay." 

Here  was  a  dilemma,  but  the  shrewd  old  Butu  solved  it  when 
he  suggested  to  Ina  na  Manuk  that  it  was  quite  possible  that 
Esa  had  made  herself  such  a  terror  to  the  Chino  that  perhaps 
he  would  be  glad  to  sell  her  back  to  them  at  a  cheap  price. 

And  developments  came  fast,  for  it  was  only  a  few  hours  later 
that  a  vinta  arrived  from  down  river,  carrying  Wa-Tu's  head 
man,  in  search  of  the  fugitive. 

And  thus  early  came  to  them  the  news  that  the  evening  of 
Esa's  flight,  Wa-Tu,  while  taking  his  evening  meal,  had  sick 
ened  and  died  almost  as  suddenly  as  if  struck  by  lightning, 
and  that  all  the  household  felt  sure  that  Esa  had  poisoned 
him  and  were  insistent  that  she  should  be  brought  back  to  be 
judged  by  the  Kali  and  punished  for  her  crime. 

And  just  here  Ina  na  Manuk  and  Butu  were  quick  to  recog 
nize  the  arrival  of  opportunity. 

Seldom  among  the  Moros  are  punishments  inflicted  as  pro 
vided  by  the  Luwaren  when  anyone  may  profit  by  their  sus 
pension. 

Justice,  revenge,  what  do  they  count  against  money?  One 
cannot  buy  anything  with  justice  or  revenge. 

And  thus  it  happened  that  Ina  na  Manuk  managed  to  re- 


WA-TU'S  HONEYMOON 

cover  full  legal  title  to  Esa  at  a  price,  figured  against  the  sum 
Wa-Tu  had  bet  against  her,  that  made  her  one  of  the  best 
bargains  Ina  na  Manuk  had  ever  secured. 

And  as  a  part  of  the  consideration,  Ina  na  Manuk  exacted 
from  the  Chino  the  promise  that  his  people  shall  not  talk  of 
their  suspicions  respecting  Wa-Tu's  sudden  death. 


[  149] 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
NAKED  BOLOS  IN  THEIR  HANDS 

Swiftly  and  almost  silently  Morine's  launch  swept  up  the 
Rio  Grande  on  the  breast  of  the  flooding  tide,  with  all  lights 
out. 

He  was  bent  on  checkmating  Linta  and  Telecoco. 

It  was  near  dawn,  within  an  hour  of  it,  and  the  little  expedi 
tion  was  nearing  Datu  Telecoco's  rancheria. 

Beside  the  pilot  idled  Morine,  Tony  and  Captain  Catron,  the 
latter  the  depot  quartermaster,  come  along  for  the  fun  of  it. 

The  insignificant  but  deadly  muzzle  of  a  machine  gun  pro 
truded  truculently  over  the  starboard  bow. 

Around  the  decks  sprawled  the  slender  khakied  forms  of 
twenty  of  Trigg's  constabulary,  a  nondescript  lot  so  hope 
lessly  mixed  of  blood  that  probably  none  could  be  rightly  de 
scribed  as  half-breeds.  Scarcely  dependable  material  for  des 
perate  service  one  would  say  at  first  thought  or  glance,  and 
yet  an  eager,  searching,  tough  lot  of  fighters  when  well  led. 

So  still  was  the  heavy  tropical  night  and  thick  the  mists 
through  which  they  were  stealing,  that,  but  for  the  soft  chug- 
chug  of  the  propeller,  the  low  ripple  under  the  bow  and  occa 
sional  dim  glimpses  of  the  shore  line,  it  would  have  seemed 
that  they  were  stalking  some  star-dwelling  enemy  through 
empty  inter-stellar  space. 

"Tony,  I've  changed  my  mind,"  Morine  suddenly  remarked. 

"The  devil  you  have!  In  what  respect?" 

"Why,  there's  an  easier  way  to  throw  kinks  into  this  Talker 
to  Alligators  than  hammering  him." 

"The  hell  there  is!  Going  to  fly  at  him  with  a  slate  and  a 
primer,  I  suppose." 

"No,  not  exactly,"  Morine  smiled;  "I'm  going  ashore,  alone 
with  an  orderly,  to  con  or  bluff  him  into  coming  aboard  as 
our  guest." 

"Not  if  I  can  stop  you,  Joe;  it's  silly  suicide." 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"Nonsense,  Tony.  I  know  my  man.  You'll  have  to  leave 
him  to  me,  this  time — and  if  I  fail,  then  you  can  print  SILLY 
on  my  headstone." 

And  then  presently  he  added,  "Detail  me  an  orderly,  slow 
down  and  put  me  ashore.  Lay  to  here  for  twenty  minutes, 
and  then  split  the  river  for  the  village.  Come  there,  all  lights 
on  and  stand  by  your  machine  gun,  and  at  the  first  shot  you 
hear  shell  hell  out  of  the  show.  Don't  mind  me;  I'll  look  out 
for  myself." 

"Well,  you're  the  K.  O.  But  I'd  never  treat  you  that  way, 
Joe." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Why  make  you  sit  on  your  bally  hunkers  in  the  middle  of  a 
d— d  river  while  your  mate  was  marching  up  on  such  a  bunch 
of  mad  hellions  as  Telecoco's  village  holds." 

"Good  old  Tony,"  Morine  smiled,  patting  him  on  the  shoul 
der;  "I  understand.  You  shall  have  your  whack  yet,  no  fear." 

And  then  Captain  Catron  broke  in  for  the  first  time,  "If 
you've  no  objections,  Governor,  I'll  come  along." 

"Thanks,  Captain,"  Morine  rather  doubtfully  replied;  "but 
— but — why,' yes,  by  all  means,  if  you  like.  It  will  help  out  my 
con  of  an  official  visit." 

As  they  were  passing  over  the  side  Trigg  wistfully  queried, 
"Wouldn't  suit  you  to  let  me  come  along,  Joe,  and  leave  the 
command  of  the  company  to  my  teniente?" 

A  v  \J 

"Now,  now!  Tony,"  Morine  indulgently  smiled;  "you're  too 
good  a  soldier  for  that.  Got  to  play  your  K.  O.'s  judgment, 
you  know." 

All  in  rope-soled  and  canvas-topped  "sneakers,"  silently  as 
ghosts  the  three  stalked  through  the  grey  mists,  wading  through 
rice  paddys  or  crouching  along  their  dykes. 

Naked  in  their  hands  Morine  and  the  orderly  carried  their 
bolos.  A  shot  would  be  fatal — they  must  jump  Telecoco  be 
fore  their  presence  was  suspected. 

Arrived  at  the  edge  of  the  village,  Morine  leading,  within 
the  shadow  of  a  hut  he  came  face  to  face  with  a  drowsy  Moro 
sentry,  who  stood  leaning  on  his  heavy  campilan  blade. 

[  152] 


NAKED  BOLOS  IN  THEIR  HANDS 

But  no  alarm  was  sounded. 

A  headless  man  can  manage  no  better  in  the  way  of  noise 
than  a  momentary  gurgle. 

Beneath  the  huts  and  among  the  tall  poles  that  supported 
them  they  slowly  stole,  until,  just  as  the  dawn  was  greying 
the  East,  they  stopped  in  front  of  the  casa  grande  that  must 
represent  the  joint  palace  and  harem  of  the  lord  of  the  dis 
trict. 

Loudly  Morine  hallooed,  but  had  to  call  repeatedly  before 
from  within  came  an  inquiry,  "Who  is  it?'* 

"I;  it  is  I,  the  Sultani  of  the  'Mergans,  come  to  pay  a  visit 
of  honor  to  the  great  Datu  Telecoco." 

"But  why  are  you  come  in  the  night?"  Telecoco's  voice  sus 
piciously  queried. 

"To  avoid  the  sun,  Datu.  Your  Mindanao  sun  is  trying  to 
the  'Mergans.  Come  out.  No  danger  threatens  you.  I  am 
ashore  alone  as  you  will  see." 

But  it  was  only  after  five  minutes  of  parleying  that  the  drowsy, 
half-roused  Moro  chief  came  out  on  the  gallery  of  his  house. 

"Telecoco,"  Morine  began,  "I  am  here  with  this  great  trad 
er  captain  to  do  you  the  honor  of  inviting  you  to  come  with 
us  to  Cotabato  for  a  conference,  whither  we  shall  be  inviting 
and  taking  all  the  other  great  Datus,  to  learn  your  wishes  and 
try  to  plan  to  meet  them." 

Just  then  the  big  launch  rounded  a  point  and  stood  in  with 
in  thirty  yards  of  them,  few  men  showing  above  her  rail  but 
all  lights  lit  and  reflecting  from  the  waters  a  circle  of  golden 
stars. 

Alert  on  the  saddle  of  the  machine  gun  sat  Trigg. 

"You  see  you  are  to  have  the  honor  of  a  journey  on  our  great 
smoking  vessel  of  state.  Come  on  board,  and  we'll  proceed  to 
visit  and  pick  up  your  brother  Datus." 

"But  tell  me,  'Mergan,  why — " 

"Oh,  come  along  and  I'll  explain  aboard.  One  does  not  hesi 
tate  to  accept  an  honor,  Datu.  Come!" 

It  took  a  lot  more  parleying,  but  finally  Morine's  strategy 
won. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Decked  in  his  gayest  duds,  bright-hued  and  stately  as  a  pea 
cock,  the  Talker  to  Alligators  passed  aboard  the  launch — 
only  to  be  seized,  gagged  and  bound  by  Trigg  the  moment  he 
got  into  the  cabin. 

And  no  more  was  he  safely  aboard  than  Morine  began  a  care 
ful  search  of  Telecoco's  house,  for  a  letter  his  spies  had  told 
him  had  been  recently  received  which  fully  detailed  the  plans 
of  the  Datus  to  resist  the  'Mergans  and  the  part  to  be  played 
by  each. 

Topsy  turvy  he  turned  the  house,  while  Telecoco's  numer 
ous  wives  and  progeny  dodged  gingerly  about,  wide-eyed  of 
their  wonder  at  what  it  all  meant,  and  outside  the  village 
streets  seethed  with  a  heavily-armed  throng  that  had  the 
hearty  will,  but  lacked  the  leadership  to  pounce  upon  and 
finish  him. 

At  last  his  search  was  rewarded ;  he  held  in  his  hand  the  let 
ter  that  amply  proved  all  his  suspicions  of  the  Datus'  duplicity. 

And  then  out  through  the  scowling  mob  Morine  stalked  and 
down  to  the  shore,  where  he  hailed  to  Trigg  to  send  ashore 
the  Datu  Dikaya,  whose  presence  aboard  had  been  a  mys 
tery  to  Trigg  that  Morine  had  not  explained. 

Dikaya  was  the  cowed  and  timid  chief  of  a  small  district  near 
Cotabato,  long  since  a  slave  to  opium  and  humbled  by  the 
Spaniards. 

As  Dikaya  was  shambling  ashore,  Morine  called,  "If  you 
hear  my  gun,  Tony,  sweep  the  village  with  your  rifles  and  gun." 

And  then,  attended  only  by  Captain  Catron  and  the  orderly, 
he  led  the  Datu  to  the  village  market  house,  a  great  roofed 
shelter,  open  of  sides  and  high  on  poles  like  all  the  other  huts. 

Come  there,  he  ordered  Telecoco's  head  Saligan  to  summon 
all  the  head  men  of  the  district  and  the  gente  of  the  village  to 
a  council. 

Quickly  they  thronged  around  him,  the  leaders  by  his  direc 
tion  ascending  to  the  platform  and  squatting  behind  him 
while  the  populace  crowded  thick  beneath  him,  all  scowling 
and  evidently  hungry  for  his  blood  as  a  pack  of  starving 
wolves. 


NAKED  BOLOS  IN  THEIR  HANDS 

Standing  at  the  edge  of  the  platform,  his  meager  escort  at 
his  elbows  and  Datu  Dikaya  cringing  near,  Morine  addressed 
the  crowd. 

He  was  very  brief,  but  while  his  face  was  smiling,  his  words 
were  verbal  stabs. 

"Your  Datu  Telecoco,  the  Feared,  He  Who  Talks  to  the 
Alligators,  displeases  me,"  he  began.  "Telecoco  has  been  plot 
ting  against  the  'Mergans.  He  shall  cut  the  grass  of  Cotaoato 
streets  like  the  meanest  slave.  And  now  I,  the  'Mergan  Sul- 
tani,  give  you  a  new  Datu,  the  great  Datu  Dikaya,  a  man  of 
wisdom  and  peace.  Here  he  stays  and  will  rule  you.  Obey 
him  in  everything — or  I'll  return  and  feed  the  last  of  you  to 
the  alligators.  If  there  are  any  objections,  I  want  to  hear 
them  now!" 

And  he  whirled  on  the  Saligans  seated  behind  him. 

Sourly  all  glowered,  but  no  voice  answered  his  except  that 
of  the  badly  frightened  Dikaya,  who  trembling,  pleaded  his 
fears. 

Ignoring  him,  Morine  finished,  "Very  well.  It  is  best  you 
should  make  no  objections.  Mind  Dikaya  has  none  but  good 
reports  to  make  of  you,"  after  which  he  descended  to  the 
ground  and  returned  to  the  launch. 

As  they  stepped  aboard,  Trigg  heaved  a  deep  sigh  and  re 
marked,  "Mighty  glad  you're  back;  saved  my  life,  I  reckon, 
for  that's  the  first  breath  I've  drawn  for  an  hour!" 

And  when,  turning  to  Catron,  Tony  asked,  "And  how  did 
you  enjoy  the  morning,  Captain?" 

"Why,  Tony,"  came  the  answer,  "as  a  fun  picker  I'm  re 
garding  myself  as  a  rotten  failure.  The  next  time  I  want  any 
fun  I  won't  follow  Joe  Morine.  By  God,  but  I'd  rather  spend 
a  night  adrift  among  the  alligators  of  the  Rio  Grande  than 
attend  another  of  Joe's  lectures,  my  word  for  that!" 

And  when  just  as  Morine  was  about  to  order  full  speed  ahead, 
a  splash  alongside  drew  their  attention  in  time  to  see  the 
thoroughly  terrorized  Dikaya  seize  the  low  launch  rail  and 
drag  himself  aboard. 

At  Morine's  feet  Dikaya  crouched  and  chattered, 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"By  the  love  of  your  mother,  great  Sultani,  do  not  leave  me 
here.  Telecoco  is  terrible.  You  do  not  know  him.  He  is  in 
league  with  Balbal.  He  will  turn  himself  into  a  serpent  and 
bite  me,  or  suck  my  blood  like  a  murcielago  or  send  his  alli- 

§ators  to  eat  me  and  my  children.  Save  me!  Save  me,  good 
ultani!" 

"You  stay  put,  where  I  put  you,  you  old  cur,  or  it  will  be 
my  pistol  bullets  that  bite  you,  my  bolo  that  sucks  your 
black  blood" — and  landed  the  cringing  figure  a  kick  that  lift 
ed  it  back  into  the  river. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 
DATU  LINTA'S  NUPTIALS 

Into  the  not  unpleasant  routine  of  life  with  Ina  na  Manuk, 
Esa  would  have  dropped  happily  enough  but  for  the  fact  that 
she  confronted  the  first  great  grief  of  her  life. 

Her  parents  were  dead. 

Usup,  the  greatest  Ingorandy  and  Lukus  of  all  the  Monobos, 
and  Lancona,  their  wisest  medicine  woman,  were  no  more. 

Infinite  is  the  love  of  savage  parents  for  their  young.  And 
what  savage  parents  ever  had  such  a  wonderful  daughter  as 
Esa?  For  her  they  had  planned  and  worked  so  long,  of  her 
expected  so  much. 

She,  why  they  had  made  that  child  as  wise  as  were  they  both. 
The  last  of  their  secrets  and  mysteries,  the  most  powerful  of 
their  magic,  they  had  instructed  her  in  until  she  was  as  wise 
as  they. 

And  never  for  a  moment  had  they  lost  hope  that  one  day 
she  at  least  would  manage  to  escape  and  return  to  rule  the 
clan. 

When  the  defeat  of  Musla  by  Maitum  tore  her  from  them, 
both  had  grieved  and  fasted  until  they  were  no  more  than 
shadows  of  the  sturdy  hill  folk  they  were  when  the  Saligan 
Ishmael  put  them  on  the  Ganta  slave  block. 

And  really  of  their  grief  they  had  perished. 

For  Usup,  wasted  to  feebleness,  had  succumbed  to  a  light 
attack  of  fever. 

And  the  good  Lancona,  the  wisest  medicine  woman  of  all 
the  hill  tribes  of  Mindanao,  had  become  so  weak  she  was  no 
more  able  to  work,  and  one  evening  while  idling  incautiously 
near  some  reeds  by  the  river,  was  struck  senseless  by  the  tail 
of  a  lurking  alligator,  and  dragged  into  the  flood  and  de 
voured. 

And  hard,  indeed,  on  the  girl  was  the  blow,  for  tenderness 

[  157] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

begets  tenderness  and  the  indulgence  of  savage  parents  makes 
fond  offspring. 

But  Esa  was  young  and  strong  and  bold,  made  bold  and  am 
bitious  by  the  rare  training  for  high  authority  her  dead  par 
ents  had  given  her. 

Their  work  for  her  must  not  go  in  vain.  Their  ambition  for 
her  must  be  realized. 

She  must,  she  would  yet  rule  her  people  as  they  had  planned. 

And  many,  very,  very  many  were  the  velvet-blue  tropical 
nights  that,  withdrawn  into  seclusion  among  the  platanos, 
Esa  sat  trilling  on  her  dearly-loved  kuteebapee  the  gentle, 
whispering  Monobo  melodies  that  Usup  had  taught  her,  al 
ternately  dreaming  over  Usup's  fascinating  mysteries  and 
Lancona's  powerful  magic,  and  struggling  to  mature  plans 
for  escape  to  her  home  among  the  tree  tops  by  the  Malbul. 

Unhappily  none  of  her  plans  there  made  was  ever  to  be  re 
alized. 

Fate  reserved  in  store  for  her  many  mingled  perils,  disap 
pointments  and  joys  before  she  was  ever  again  to  have  the 
chance  to  go  questing  in  the  MalbuFs  sands  for  Busaus  big, 
black  eggs. 

Returning  from  his  trip  with  Telecoco  to  Cotabato  to  con* 
fer  with  Morine,  Datu  Linta  had  spent  what  was  to  prove 
for  him  a  very  fateful  day  with  Butu  and  Ina  na  Manuk. 

There  he  had  again  seen  Esa,  for  the  first  time  since  her  sale 
at  his  Ganta  market. 

The  girl  had  developed  wonderfully  in  every  way.  Mentally 
Ina  na  Manuk  had  made  her  superior  even  to  most  of  the 
Moro  girls  or  women,  for  she  had  educated  her  in  a  measure 
few  of  them  enjoy. 

And  physically  Esa  had  more  than  fulfilled  the  promise  of 
her  earlier  youth.  Now  she  had  developed  such  a  perfect  riot 
of  voluptuous  charms  as  to  make  her  more  fascinating  to  the 
old  Datu  than  any  girl  he  had  ever  seen. 

Throughout  his  stay  he  could  not  keep  his  eyes  off  her,  and 
naturally  Ina  na  Manuk  was  not  slow  to  note  it  and  to  real 
ize  that  the  time  was  come  to  bag  the  handsome  profit  she 


DATU  LINTA'S  NUPTIALS 

had  anticipated  as  certain  when  Butu  was  chiding  her  re 
specting  the  high  price  she  had  paid  for  the  girl. 

Nevertheless,  Datu  Linta  was  cunning  and  bided  his  time, 
and  it  was  not  until  some  weeks  later  that  the  Saligan  Ish- 
mael  drifted  in  one  day,  and,  after  partaking  of  refreshments, 
intimated  that  the  Datu  Linta  might  use  another  slave. 

Of  what  sort? 

Oh,  it  was  a  girl  slave  Linta  wanted;  something  like  that 
Monobo  Esa;  yes,  perhaps  she  herself  would  do. 

The  bargaining  took  two  days,  but  it  was  so  quietly  con 
ducted  that  Esa  had  no  suspicion  of  it. 

Indeed,  the  first  hint  she  had  of  her  disposal  was  as  the  Sali- 

fan  Ishmael  had  firmly  gripped  her  wrist  to  lead  her  aboard 
is  vinta,  when  Ina  na  Manuk  told  her  she  was  destined  to 
the  honor  of  becoming  the  first  favorite  of  the  great  Datu 
Linta's  harem. 

Of  course,  the  cunning  Saligan  had  never  admitted  as  much 
to  Ina;  but  the  high  price  she  had  managed  to  crowd  him  up 
to  left  Ina  no  doubt  in  the  matter — well  she  knew  that  Linta 
was  never  recklessly  extravagant  in  anything  save  in  his  out 
lays  on  his  harem. 

And  well  it  was  for  him  that  Ishmael  had  not  forgotten  the 
fierce  spear  stab  Esa  had  given  him  at  Pugsan,  and  now  was 
taking  no  chances. 

For,  in  the  first  hot  wave  of  anger  and  resentment  that  swept 
her,  she  writhed  and  tugged  for  freedom,  and  then  struggled 
to  seize  his  kris. 

But,  of  course,  in  his  great  warrior's  hands  the  girl  was  power 
less — and  clever  enough  to  soon  realize  it  and  cease  resistance. 

But  as  she  was  being  made  to  step  into  the  vinta,  she  turned 
on  her  old  mistress  and  quietly  remarked, 

"Mother  of  Chickens,  you  have  been  very  good  to  Esa,  but 
now  twice  you  have  been  very  bad.  Beware!  Esa  is  more 
powerful  than  you  know.  Beware!" 

Time  tempers  passions,  and  for  the  wise  sometimes  solves 
troubles,  or  points  means  to  solve  them. 

Esa  was  wise,  wise  as  are  few  maids  of  her  age  of  any  race. 

[  159] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

And  the  journey  on  the  Rio  Grande,  and  then  up  the  Degao 
to  Ganta,  sufficed  to  calm  her  with  the  realization  that  each 
paddle  stroke  was  driving  her  nearer  toward  Mt.  Apo,  well 
up  toward  the  Moro  frontier,  close  to  the  frontier  she  had 
heard  her  good  Tugan  and  his  warriors  were  frequently  raid 
ing. 

She  was  nearing  her  old  tree-top  home. 

And  out  of  the  calm  came  resolution  that  set  her  subtle 
brain  seething  with  plans. 

Linta?  Ha,  she  did  not  fear  him.  Why  should  she,  while  she 
owned  magic  more  powerful  than  that  of  his  Kalis  and  Pun- 
ditas?  He  should  never  wear  her.  She  would  deal  with  him. 

Nor  did  she  lose  time  smoothing  her  way,  for  presently  she 
very  humbly  asked  Ishmael: 

"Tell  me,  great  Saligan,  Linta  is  the  mightiest  of  all  the 
Moro  chiefs,  is  he  not,  has  more  lands,  more  women  and 
fiercer  Maratuns  than  any  of  them?'* 

"True,  girl,  the  Datu  Linta  owns  no  master  but  A//a/j." 

"And  can  it  be  true,  what  Ina  na  Manuk  said  as  we  were 
leaving,  that  the  mighty  Linta  will  make  me  the  first  favor 
ite  of  his  harem,  where  already  he  has  so  many  beautiful 
women?" 

For  a  moment  the  old  raider  sat  staring  in  rude  approval  of 
her  voluptuous  charms,  muttering  to  himself,  "He'll  be  crazy 
if  he  don't,  and  crazier  still  if  he  does,"  and  then  gruffly  an 
swered, 

"AH  depends  on  you,  girl.  Yes,  he  will — if  you  don't  bite 
and  scratch  too  hard.  But  look  out  for  Linta.  He  has  little 
patience.  If  you  deny  or  vex  him,  you'll  be  tied  to  a  Palo- 
santo  to  be  eaten  by  the  ants." 

All  which  strengthened  Esa's  resolution  more  than  it  daunt 
ed  her. 

But  it  was  with  a  smile  and  in  a  very  meek  tone  that  she 
replied, 

"Esa  is  older  than  when  you  took  her  from  Pugsan.  She  has 
learned  much  wisdom.  A  girl  would  be  a  fool  who  would  not 
be  glad  of  the  chance  to  pleasure  a  great  chief  who  should  so 


DATU  LINTA'S  NUPTIALS 

elevate  her.  Why,  Salfgan,  if  Lfnta  is  the  mightiest  of  the 
Datus,  she  whom  he  makes  the  first  favorite  of  his  harem  will 
be  the  greatest  woman  of  all  your  people,  will  she  not?" 

"Ha,  girl,"  Ishmael  answered,  "you  have  indeed  learned 
wisdom.  She  who  best  pleasures  Linta  rules  his  Province." 

"It  is  well,  Saligan,"  Esa  firmly  replied;  "if  you  are  right, 
so  shall  you  soon  see  Esa  rule." 

Thereby  proving  that  she  had  not  been  backward  in  learn 
ing  one  of  the  first  lessons  civilization  teaches  the  savage — 
Deceit. 

And  hence  it  naturally  followed  that  it  was  an  altogether 
coy,  almost  a  shrinking  and  timid  maid,  over  whose  rare 
beauty  Linta  eagerly  gloated  when  she  was  brought  before 
him. 

Fast  chewed  his  blackened  teeth  on  a  mouthful  of  betel-nut, 
bright  flamed  the  great  purple  scar  where  once  his  right  ear 
had  been,  and  trembling  were  the  hands  that  drew  her  to  him 
and  rudely  fondled  her. 

"A  girl  in  a  thousand!"  Linta  grinned;  "and  tame;  now  she 
is  tame.  Ina  na  Manuk  has  done  well." 

Whereupon  he  summoned  his  wife,  his  lawful  and  once  his 
only  wife  but  now  long  since  the  very  last  of  many,  and  push 
ing  Esa  toward  her  grufHy  ordered : 

"Take  her — and  the  best,  for  her  the  best;  she's  first." 

Then  he  turned  to  the  waiting  Ishmael  and  growled,  "What 
did  she  cost?  What  did  Ina  na  Manuk  make  you  pay?" 

"Dear,  Mighty  One;  she  made  me  pay  dear — two  hundred 
and  eighty  silver  pesos;  but — " 

"Oh!  Oh!  the  old  thief!  I'll  get  even  with  her  for  that.  One 
day  she'll  want  something  we've  got,  and  then  she  shall  pay." 
And  then,  shortly  adding,  "But,  Saligan,  you've  done  well. 
Ina  knows  Linta  can  be  made  to  give  heavily  of  what  he  has 
for  what  he  badly  wants." 

On  dragged  slowly,  very,  very  slowly  for  him,  what  Linta 
was  gloating  over  as  likely  to  be  one  of  the  happiest  days  of 
his  life. 

And  while,  retired  for  his  afternoon  siesta,  he  lay  tossing  of 

[•61] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

fevered  dreams  of  the  joys  soon  to  be  his,  brilliantly  were  his 
women  gowning  Esa  for  Linta's  hymeneal  festival,  in  the 
most  costly  fabrics  artistically  wrought  in  most  regal  Moro 
mode. 

But  as  for  Esa  the  hours  raced  away  at  frightful  speed,  her 
anxiety  grew,  and  grew,  and  grew. 

So  crowded  was  Linta's  household  that  not  the  ghost  of  a 
chance  could  she  see  to  use  Lancona's  magic;  always  was 
there  a  throng  around  the  fires  where  food  was  being  pre 
pared  for  the  evening  meal. 

She  was  becoming  desperate ! 

Still,  not  by  the  quiver  of  a  finger  or  the  flutter  of  an  eyelid 
did  Esa  show  her  anxiety  and  desperation  when,  very  shortly 
after  supper,  the  grinning  Linta  took  her  hand  and  led  her 
behind  the  hanging  mats  that  walled  the  nuptial  chamber. 

What  happened  within  the  nuptial  chamber? 

Ah,  precisely  what  happened  there  Esa  never  told,  not  even 
the  smallest  detail. 

They  were  there  shut  in  alone,  little  Esa  and  the  Mighty 
Datu  Linta. 

There  were  no  eye  witnesses  of  the  happenings  within  that 
nuptial  chamber. 

But  often  the  ears  learn  something  of  happenings  that  no 
eyes  see. 

And  that  evening  those  without  the  chamber  heard,  what? 
— the  shrill  swish  of  a  kris — the  soft  thud  of  a  blade  biting 
into  flesh — the  fall  of  a  body — the  gurgle  of  severed  arteries ! 

That  was  all. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 
WAILING  THAT  TOLD  OF  CALAMITY 

Upon  leaving  Datu  Dikaya  swimming  ashore,  Morine  did 
not  cruise  far. 

Since  none  of  Telecoco's  genie  could  suspect  that  he  was  a 
bound  and  gagged  prisoner  aboard  the  launch,  and  must  still 
be  believing  the  purposes  of  the  expedition  to  be  pacific,  as 
Morine  had  stated  them,  there  was  small  fear  they  would  at 
tempt  to  send  runners  to  their  next  neighbor,  Linta. 

Moreover,  the  distance  to  his  rancheria  was  so  great  and  the 
going  across  country  so  bad  that  Morine  felt  safe  to  lay  up 
along  shore  for  the  day,  after  ordering  that  a  sharp  lookout 
be  kept  for  ascending  vintas  and  that  any  sighted  be  inter 
cepted  and  turned  back. 

Thus  through  the  long,  hot  day  he  and  his  mates  lounged 
and  drowsed  under  their  awnings,  with  only  three  or  four  in 
terruptions  when  vintas  showed  up  that  must  be  shooed  back 
down  stream. 

Meantime,  Telecoco,  now  the  Fearful  and  Very  Humble 
instead  of  the  Feared,  had  been  freed  of  his  gag  and  gener 
ously  enough  fed,  but  still  remained  securely  lashed  to  a 
locker. 

Whenever  Morine  passed  near,  to  him  Telecoco  pleaded, 
but  from  him  received  no  answer.  The  longer  left  in  the  dark 
as  to  his  fate,  the  more  quickly  would  the  last  of  his  pride  and 
confidence  be  broken. 

But  the  moment  Morine's  back  was  turned,  Telecoco  was 
rumbling  ominously  as  Mt.  Apo — prayers  to  Allah,  invoca 
tions  of  Balbal,  wheedlings  of  the  alligators  and  threats  to 
the  serpents  and  murcielagos  that,  had  they  been  effective, 
would  have  made  Morine  the  victim  of  some  terrible  fate  to 
make  the  stoutest  heart  tremble. 

But,  somehow,  the  supposedly  doughty  Telecoco  failed  to 

[163] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

connect  with  any  of  the  horror  producers  he  was  supposed  by 
his  people  to  control. 

Perhaps  his  spiritual  powder  was  wet — or  maybe  he  was 
just  a  silly  old  fakir,  although  one  would  certainly  waste 
time  trying  to  make  any  of  his  gente  believe  it. 

At  nightfall,  the  launch  resumed  its  chug-chug  up  stream. 

For  hours  all  were  silent,  but  finally,  unable  longer  to  stand 
the  suspense,  Captain  Trigg  spoke: 

"Aren't  going  to  change  your  mind  again  tonight,  are  you, 
Joe?" 

"Not  so  you'll  notice  it,  Tony,"  Morine  grinned;  "Linta's 
quite  another  proposition." 

"Bully!"  cut  in  Catron;  "then  I  may  safely  cherish  the  hope 
you're  not  planning  another  lecture  stunt?" 

"You  certainly  may;  with  him  it  will  be  pretty  near  a  case 
of  shoot  first  and  talk  later.  He  don't  seem  to  me  to  listen 
well — perhaps  because  that  right  ear  of  his  is  no  longer  doing 
business  at  its  old  stand." 

And  then,  after  a  short  pause,  Morine  flared,  "Think  I'm  a 
d~ d  fool,  hey,  Captain?" 

"No,  no!"  Catron  hurriedly  replied;  "about  the  farthest 
thing  from  one  I  know.  Only,  honest,  while  we  stood  alone  in 
that  Moro  mob,  it  did  seem  to  me  you  had  more  confidence 
in  the  trill  of  your  own  bazoo  than  I'd  ever  want  to  risk  plac 
ing  in  mine." 

"Well,  the  bazoo  won  with  those  gazabos,  didn't  it?" 

"Slick  as  can  a  crooked  roulette  wheel — and  my  very  sin 
cere  compliments,  Morine;  it  was  simply  splendid." 

"Thanks,  Catron,  but  just  please  forget  it;  all  in  the  day's 
work,  man;  all  in  the  day's  work,  no  more.  Got  to  do  our 
work,  all  of  us,  and  the  quicker  and  cheaper  we  do  it  the  bet 
ter,  no?" 

And  adding  before  either  had  time  to  speak,  with  perhaps 
just  a  touch  of  pride,  "Cheap  little  job,  that,  really;  no  wear 
and  tear  on  arms;  no  powder  spent!" 

"Cheap?  Hell!"  Catron  commented;  "no  wear  and  tear! 
Well,  if  you  want  to  know,  my  arms  suffered  about  all  the 


WAILING  THAT  TOLD  OF  CALAMITY 

wear  and  tear  they  could  stand,  hugging  myself  to  keep  my 
heart  from  thumping  a  hole  in  my  ribs!  To  me,  that  was 
about  the  dearest  job  I  ever  had  a  hand  in." 

"Well,  fellows,"  Trigg  good-naturedly  cut  in,  "that's  over, 
anyhow — and  it  was  all  yours.  Tony's  show  ought  to  be  due 
tonight,  I'm  hoping." 

"Bet  your  boots,  Tony,"  Morine  replied;  "tonight  is  where 
you  go  into  action,  if  there's  got  to  be  one.  But,  of  course,  I'm 
bound  to  try  to  wriggle  through  without  a  scrap  if  I  can.  Lit 
tle  show  I  can,  though." 

"And  less  hope  on  my  part  you  will.  But  what's  the  game 
tonight,  if  I  may  make  so  bold  as  to  ask?" 

"Sure,  and  it's  high  time  I  told  you;  if  I'm  not  miscalculat 
ing  our  position,  the  next  point  on  our  left  opens  the  mouth 
of  the  Degao  River." 

"Right,  old  scout,  and  an  hour  with  the  tide  will  be  bring 
ing  us  mighty  close  to  Linta's  show." 

"Precisely.  Well,  we'll  stop  a  scant  mile  below  him.  The 
landing  party  will  be  the  three  of  us  and  forty  of  our  men. 
Your  teniente  and  the  rest  will  do  for  the  boat.  Thirty  min 
utes  after  we  land,  the  teniente  will  steam  in  close  opposite 
the  casa  grande,  the  siren  singing  a  song  that  will  make  such 
of  them  as  have  not  heard  one  think  Balbal's  'comin'  fo*  to 
carry  'em  home.' 

"By  that  time  we  should  have  the  boys  stretched  in  a  demi 
lune  around  the  village — pretty  wide  open  work  demi  lune 
it  will  be,  too,  for  it's  a  big  village. 

"Of  course,  I'm  expecting  to  have  surrounded  and  sum 
moned  Linta  just  before  the  arrival  of  the  teniente  and  the 
launch. 

"Not  a  shot  must  be  fired  until  we  are  in  position — and 
none  afterwards  until  I  signal,  mind.  But  don't  worry,  Tony; 
if  Linta  don't  give  us  a  man's  fight  this  morning,  I'll  miss  my 
guess." 

Sure  enough,  the  next  elbow  of  the  river  opened  the  Degao, 
and  up  it  they  chugged  as  far  as  they  dared. 

And  then  in  no  time  the  landing  party  was  safely  ashore  and 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Morine  led  Trigg's  little  brown  terriers  until  opposite  the 
center  of  the  village. 

There  he  stopped,  while  Trigg  swung  the  lead  of  the  men  to 
investment  of  the  upper  end  of  the  village  and  Catron  drew 
the  rear  around  its  lower  end. 

It  was  still  an  hour  to  daylight  when  the  line  was  halted  at 
the  edge  of  the  narrow  line  of  huts  that,  as  usual,  closely 
hugged  the  river. 

Directly  in  front  of  Morine,  lurching  crazily  on  the  rotting 
poles  that  supported  it,  stood  the  Datu  Linta's  casa  grande. 

But  while  not  a  single  moving  figure  was  in  sight  and  other 
wise  the  place  was  absolutely  still,  from  the  casa  grande  and, 
apparently,  from  all  the  huts  issued  sounds  of  wailing  that 
told  of  some  calamity  so  terrible  that  evidently  not  a  single 
family  had  escaped  it. 

What  could  it  be? 

Morine  was  puzzled,  and  moved. 

Another  enemy  had  descended  upon  these  people  ahead  of 
him. 

And  it  had  brought  DEATH  on  such  wholesale  scale  that 
no  household  had  escaped  it. 

From  the  low  cadence  of  soft  sobs  that  arose  and  fell  like 
the  soughing  of  evening  breezes  through  palm  fronds,  the 
lamentations  presently  swelled  to  the  shrillness  of  the 
angriest  typhoon. 

What  could  it  be? 

Cholera? 

Good  God! 

But  no,  there  had  been  none  on  the  coast. 

What  could  it  mean? 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 
SLAIN  LIKE  GOLIATH  BY  A  PUNY  HAND 

Whatever  the  dire  visitations  that  had  plunged  every  house 
hold  of  Linta's  village  in  mourning,  Morine  must  proceed  to 
the  accomplishment  of  his  mission. 

Approaching  the  casa  grande,  loudly  he  hailed,  and  hailed 
again  and  again  before  any  of  its  grief-stricken  inmates  paid 
any  attention  to  him. 

At  length,  out  upon  the  gallery  strode  a  stalwart  figure 
Morine  mistook  for  his  quarry. 

"The  Sultani  of  the  'Mergans  salutes  the  mighty  Datu  Lin- 
ta,"  he  began. 

"But  this  is  not  the  Datu  Linta,  'Mergan,"  answered  a 
gruff  voice;  "I'm  his  faithful  Saligan,  Ishmael." 

"Summon  your  master,  Saligan;  tell  him  the  Sultani  of  the 
'Mergans  would  see  him." 

"Ah,  'Mergan,  if  only  I  could  summon  him!" 

"What  do  you  mean,  man?" 

"Alas!  'Mergan,  Allah  has  summoned  him;  the  great  Linta 
is  now  with  him." 

"Indeed.  And  many  of  his  people  have  gone  with  him,  some 
from  every  household  by  the  wailing,  no?" 

"None  have  gone  with  Linta,  'Mergan;  he  passed  out  alone. 
All  his  people  mourn  him." 

"Ah,  I  see.  And  of  what  did  Linta  die,  Saligan?" 

"The  mighty  Linta  was  slain  by  a  young  Monobo  slave 
girl,  'Mergan;  by  an  ingrate  he  sought  to  honor  by  adding 
her  to  his  harem  women." 

"So!  And  served  him  d— d  well  right,"  Morine  muttered  to 
himself,  "much  obliged,  Miss  Monobo;  ought  to  simplify  my 
job  a  lot." 

And  then  aloud  to  Ishmael  he  continued,  "And  when  did 
this  happen,  Saligan?" 

"Only  last  evening,  'Mergan,  at  the  hour  of  retiring." 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"And  where  is  the — ah,  the  very  capable  young  lady?" 

"Expiating  her  awful  crime,  'Mergan,  by  the  judgment  of 
the  Kali;  buried  out  there  to  her  neck  in  the  earth,  to  perish 
of  starvation  or  the  sun.** 

"Ha!  Don*t  waste  much  time — or  mercy — do  your  Kalis, 
do  they?'* 

"It  is  for  them  to  interpret  the  Luwaren  and  direct  the 
administering  of  the  punishment  it  provides,  'Mergan." 

"Ah,  yes,  the  Luwaren  is  your  law,  and  so  it  punishes  un 
willing  or  unfaithful  wives?" 

Meantime  the  galleries  of  the  huts  were  packing  with  dark, 
sinister  groups,  but  none  had  ventured  to  descend  to  the 
ground. 

Just  then,  however,  the  grim,  black  shape  of  the  launch, 
all  lights  out,  rounded  close  in  to  shore,  and  loudly  shrieked 
its  siren! 

Instantly  a  pandemonium  of  mad  terror  possessed  the  vil 
lagers  that  in  a  moment  would  have  resulted  in  a  serious  rush 
if  Morine  had  not  promptly  directed  Ishmael  to  order  all 
within  their  huts,  there  to  stay  if  they  would  save  their  lives. 

And  so  badly  was  the  old  Saligan  himself  startled  that  he 
issued  and  enforced  the  order  without  question. 

Called  by  his  chief,  up  came  Tony  to  take  command  of* the 
center,  instructed  under  no  circumstances  to  fire  unless  ab 
solutely  forced  to  it. 

Then  turning  to  Ishmael,  Morine  ordered,"  I  would  see  the 
mighty  Linta.  Lead  me  to  him." 

For  a  moment  the  Saligan  scowled  and  shook  his  head,  his 
brown  talons  nervously  clutching  and  opening. 

Recognizing  the  crisis,  Morine  quietly  remarked, 

"None  of  that,  old  vulture;  none  of  that.  I  know  you  and 
you  know  me.  Lead  me  to  Linta,  unless  you  prefer  to  follow 
him.  And  now  that  Linta  is  gone  your  people  need  you,  and 
I,  too,  need  you." 

"You,  'Mergan?" 

"Yes,  I— but  lead,  lead!" 

Whereupon,  moved  by  mystification  more  than  fear,  Ish- 

[168] 


SLAIN  LIKE  GOLIATH  BY  A  PUNY  HAND 

mael  turned  to  the  casa  grande,  and  he  and  Morine  climbed 
its  rickety  steps. 

Dawn  was  breaking.  Pale  gray  shafts  of  light  stealing  be 
tween  the  loosely  placed  nipa  leaves  that  walled  the  harem, 
dimly  illumined  the  interior. 

And  there  in  the  center  of  its  principal  room,  wrapped  in 
spotless  linen  and  resting  for  the  last  time  on  his  favorite 
mat,  lay  the  body  of  the  doughty  Linta ! 

A  kris  blow  through  the  center  of  his  displaced  ear  had  near 
ly  severed  his  head! 

Strange,  indeed,  is  destiny! 

There  lay  Linta  the  mighty,  the  most  redoubtable  warrior 
of  all  the  Moro  chiefs,  slain  like  Goliath  by  a  puny  hand! 

And  there  grouped  close  around  him,  dutifully  sobbing  and 
tearing  their  hair,  crouched  his  wives  and  concubines,  to  the 
number  of  twenty  or  more,  all  dutifully  if  not  brokenheart- 
edly  mourning  their  departed  lord!  While  the  rest  of  the 
great  room  was  an  indescribable  tangle  of  howling  children, 
of  all  ages  and  hues,  who  were  the  seed  of  Linta's  loins ! 

A  glance  sufficed  Morine;  and  as  he  signed  to  Ishmael  to 
withdraw,  he  said  to  himself,  "Deeply  indebted  to  that  young 
Monobo  lady ;  have  to  look  her  up ;  nothing  short  of  a  medal 
ought  to  be  coming  to  her." 

Returned  to  his  men,  Morine  ordered,  "Tony,  down  there 
by  the  river,  just  behind  those  huts,  is  a  young  Monobo 
slave  girl,  buried  in  the  ground  to  her  neck  to  starve — a  little 
brown  Santa  Glaus  who  has  earned  our  undying  gratitude 
by  bringing  death  to  Linta." 

"The  little  peach!"  Trigg  interrupted;  "but  how  did  she 
manage  it,  Joe?" 

"Easy;  one  swipe  of  a  kris  split  that  funny  ear  and  nearly 
bit  his  head  off.  But  move  along  with  a  detail  of  your  ter 
riers;  it's  up  to  us  to  save  her." 

"One  man  will  do,  Joe;  they're  all  sticking  tight  to  their 
huts  as  do  the  leeches  to  our  ankles." 

"Bueno,  lad,  but  be  careful." 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

As  Trigg  signed  to  one  of  his  men  to  follow  and  strode  swift 
ly  away,  Morine  addressed  Ishmael: 

"Old  graybeard,  you  know  that  Linta  has  been  conspiring 
with  Telecoco  against  the  'Mergans.  It  must  stop.  The  Talk 
er  to  Alligators  and  Turner  of  Himself  into  Serpents  is  a 
prisoner  on  the  launch,  bound  like  the  slave  he  is.  To  Cota- 
bato  he  goes.  There  he  shall  be  my  slave.  I  have  put  Datu 
Dikaya  as  ruler  over  his  district.  Lucky  for  Linta  he  is  dead, 
else  he,  too,  should  be  my  slave." 

"Ha,  'Mergan,  but  you'd  have  first  to  take  him." 

"Sure;  but  that  would  be  as  easy  as  now  to  take  you,  old 
raider.  Only  I  don't  want  you.  You,  better  than  any  one, 
can  control  Linta's  Maratuns — and  you  shall,  as  Datu  of  all 
Linta's  people." 

"But,  rMergan— " 

"No  buts  about  it,  Ishmael.  You're  Datu,  or  you  die;  I'll 
never  waste  time  enslaving  you.  Stop  the  marauding  of  the 
Maratuns,  keep  peace  in  your  district,  and  little  will  I  inter 
fere  with  you — but  when  I  tell  you  any  practices  or  people 
are  to  be  blotted  out,  it's  blot  for  you,  pronto,  or  yourself  be 
blotted!" 

Unblinking,  the  two  stood  glaring  into  each  others  eyes  for 
some  seconds,  when  Morine,  become  impatient,  sharply  ex 
claimed,  "Well,  Ishmael,  is  it  yes  or  no?" 

"Yes,"  simply  answered  the  old  Saligan. 

"Good,"  finished  Morine,  "and  I  shall  trust  you  until — I 
find  you  no  longer  deserve  it." 


[  170] 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 
SAVED  BY  ESA'S  IVORY  TEETH 

Proceeding  to  the  rescue  of  the  buried  Monobo  girl  who  had 
dealt  death  to  Datu  Linta,  Captain  Tony  Trigg  and  the  one 
man  of  his  command  he  took  with  him  quickly  disappeared 
from  the  sight  of  their  mates  behind  the  huts  indicated  by 
Morine. 

His  man  was  armed  with  the  regulation  army  rifle  and  wore 
a  bolo  in  his  belt,  but  Trigg  carried,  by  preference,  the  light 
and  handy  little  .32  calibre  Winchester  carbine  that  bumps 
its  quarry  harder  than  a  .44,  while  on  his  left  hip  swung  his 
bolo  and  low  on  the  right  dangled  a  readily  handled  .45,  the 
flap  of  whose  holster  had  been  liberally  amputated — no  fool 
regulation  buttoned  flaps,  that  get  men  killed  by  clubs,  for 
him;  such  he  left  to  tenderfeet  and  doughboys. 

Come  to  the  narrow  strip  of  land  that  lay  between  the  huts 
and  the  bank  of  the  Degao,  Trigg  passed  through  a  clump  of 
platanos  that  hid  him  from  the  launch,  and  thence  prowled 
along  the  stream. 

Ha!  There  she  must  be! 

That  little  pyramid  of  black  loam,  there  ahead  in  the  grass, 
must  surely  be  from  the  narrow  hole  dug  by  order  of  the  Kali 
for  her  living  grave! 

On  bounded  Trigg. 

Yes,  there  she  was,  at  his  feet,  buried  standing  upright,  the 
heavy,  wet  loam  tramped  tightly  over  her  shoulders  and 
around  the  base  of  her  slender,  graceful  neck! 

In  mingled  wonder  and  horror,  the  auburn-haired  stalwart 
stood  gazing — at  Esa,  for,  of  course,  it  was  she. 

Her  beautiful,  pale  brown  face,  much  lighter  of  color  than 
are  the  faces  of  many  Spaniards,  was  wet  with  the  heavy 
dew,  while  through  her  great  masses  of  raven  black  hair  the 
dewdrops,  lighted  by  the  early  morning  sun,  glistened  like 
gems. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

The  face  was  perfectly  composed,  still. 

No  lines  of  hatred  distorted  it. 

No  hint  of  terror  shone  in  the  big  black  oriental  eyes. 

Here  was  resignation,  the  resignation  to  the  inevitable  of 
the  savages  whose  hard  lives  teach  them  the  folly  of  long 
kicking  against  unavoidable  pricks. 

But  she  suffered;  that  the  swelling,  writhing  muscles  of  her 
neck  showed. 

Long  she  looked  up  at  Tony  Trigg,  while  he  stood,  shocked 
to  inactivity,  nodding  his  auburn  curls  in  commiseration. 

Presently  she  spoke  to  him,  in  the  soft  labials  of  her  native 
Monobo  tongue  and  in  tones  sweet  and  low  as  those  of  her 
dearly-loved  kuteebapee. 

But  Tony  did  not  understand  her. 

Then  she  tried  Moro,  but  with  no  better  result. 

Finally  she  murmured  in  Spanish, 

"Tu  vengas  de  Dewata,  no,  Dios  Esplendido?"  "Thou  comest 
from  Dewata,  dost  thou  not,  Splendid  God?" 

Rousing  from  his  stupor,  Tony  gently  answered, 

"Don't  know  your  friend  Dewata,  little  one;  Joe  sent  me." 

"Oh!  Oh!  Then  you  must  be  a  'Mergan,  Son  of  Fire!" 

"Yes,  a  'Mergan,  right-o,  little  beauty;  and  you're  near 
right  on  your  finish;  some  that  know  me  call  me  'son  of  a 
gun/"  and  Tony  grinned  good-naturedly. 

"Ha!  A  'Mergan.  Well,  'Mergan,  it  is  good  to  have  seen 
you.  Now  I  know  what  the  gods  will  be  like." 

Then  a  swift  shadow  of  weariness  swept  across  the  little 
face,  the  big  eyes  lifted  again  to  Tony,  and  she  softly  whis 
pered, 

"Kill  me,  'Mergan.  Soon  the  sun  will  be  terrible,  and  this 
wet,  black  soil  is  crushing  me.  Kill  me  now,  'Mergan!" 

"Kill  you,  beauty!  Well,  Tony  Trigg  will  take  a  hell  of  a  lot 
of  killing  himself  before  anybody  gets  to  hurt  you  again." 

And  as,  at  a  sign  from  him,  Tony  and  his  man  dropped  to 
their  knees  and  began  tearing  the  heavy  loam  off  her  shoul 
ders  with  their  naked  hands,  the  blue  eyes  were  filled  with 
tears. 


SAVED  BY  ESA'S  IVORY  TEETH 

But  the  two  had  so  worked  hardly  more  than  a  minute  when 
Esa's  voice  rose  in  a  shriek. 

"Los  Moros!  'Mergans,  losMoros!" 

Seizing  their  guns,  both  bounded  to  their  feet. 

And  none  too  soon. 

Literally  leaping  upon  them  were  two  practically  naked 
Moros,  lithe  and  shifty  as  panthers,  one  with  a  great  broad 
campilan  blade  poised,  the  other  gripping  a  short  kris  of  dag 
ger  length. 

Whence  come  and  wherefore? 

Plainly  from  the  nearby  huts — doubtless  inspired  by  ha 
tred  of  dogs  of  unbelievers  who  should  dare  to  interfere  with 
the  punishment  of  their  Datu's  murderess  and  greedy  of 
what  looked  such  an  easy  chance  to  cut  them  down. 

Esa's  cry  had  saved  them,  at  least  momentarily. 

But  there  was  no  shell  in  the  barrel  of  Tony's  carbine  and 
the  safety  clip  was  on  the  soldier's  rifle ! 

Just  a  miserable,  tiny  second  would  suffice  to  load  and  cock 
the  carbine  or  shift  the  rifle's  safety  clip,  but  they  lacked  it. 

Even  a  half-second  would  have  served  to  allow  Tony  to 
drop  carbine  and  snatch  his  .45,  or  the  soldier  to  jerk  his  bolo, 
but  not  even  a  half-second  was  theirs. 

The  Moros  were  upon  them ! 

On  his  rifle,  raised  as  for  broad-sword  defense,  the  soldier 
received  the  campilan  blade. 

Smash  on  the  skull  of  the  other  Moro  fell  the  barrel  of  Tony's 
carbine,  but  so  light  was  the  arm  and  so  short  the  wrist 
stroke  which  was  all  he  had  time  for  that  Tony's  foe  was  only 
momentarily  staggered. 

Crouching,  springing,  side-stepping,  leaping  in  and  out,  but 
ever  pressing  deadly  close,  round  Tony  the  dagger-bearing 
Moro  circled  like  a  mad  human  whirlwind,  playing  all  the 
time  for  the  Moro's  favorite  disemboweling  stroke. 

Back  at  him  fought  Tony  the  best  he  could.  But  that,  at 
best,  was  poor. 

Hand-to-hand,  the  Moro  has  terrible  advantage. 

Indeed,  Tony's  best,  at  the  moment,  was  to  keep  his  body 

[173] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

bent  nearly  double,  to  try  to  save  the  stomach  from  the 
Moro's  searching  kris,  and  to  hold  him  off  with  short  jabs 
and  swats  with  the  carbine  barrel,  into  none  of  which  did  he 
have  time  to  put  the  swing  needful  to  be  disabling. 

And  the  soldier  was  powerless  to  come  to  Tony's  aid,  for 
round  his  head  the  great  two-handed  campilan  blade  was 
flaming  like  sheet  lightning. 

Neither  sought  to  yell  for  help — doubtless  because  neither 
dared  to  spend  his  fast  failing  breath. 

Never  were  tortured  souls  in  Hades  more  hopeless  of  escape 
from  its  relentless  demons. 

On  and  on  they  fought  over  the  short  grass,  often  all  but 
stepping  on  Esa's  unprotected  head,  ever  so  hard  pressed 
that  a  reach  for  their  side  arms  would  be  fatal. 

And  fortunate,  indeed,  it  was  for  Tony  that  none  of  the  mad 
swirls  of  this  maelstrom  of  savage  battle  carried  them  away 
from  her. 

For  he  was  weakening  fast — ripped  through  the  side,  slash 
ed  deep  in  the  chest,  slit  through  the  cheek. 

Each  fresh  spurt  of  blood  from  his  wounds  was  taking  ghastly 
heavy  toll  of  his  energies. 

Presently  he  slipped,  lost  his  poise  and  staggered,  wildly 
swinging  his  arms  to  recover  himself. 

His  guard  was  gone,  only  for  an  instant,  to  be  sure,  but  that 
instant  inevitably  fatal. 

Nothing  but  a  miracle  could  save  him. 

But  the  miracle  materialized. 

And,  incidentally,  it  left  Tony  indebted  to  Esa  for  his  life. 

Shifting  position  for  the  spring  to  take  advantage  of  the 
opening  for  a  swift  disemboweling  kris  stroke,  his  enemy's 
foot  landed  close  to  Esa's  face. 

Seizing  the  opportunity,  the  otherwise  utterly  helpless  maid, 
hyper-alert  of  the  training  of  her  jungle  life,  sank  her  ivory- 
white  teeth  so  deeply  in  the  Moro's  ankle  that  he  shrieked 
with  the  pain  of  it,  and,  in  tearing  himself  free,  leaped  so  far 
aside  that  Tony  had  time  to  recover  his  guard! 


SAVED  BY  ESA'S  IVORY  TEETH 

But  the  respite  was  only  momentary;  back  prodding  and 
slashing  at  him  came  the  Moro. 

Something  must  be  done.  And  only  some  unusual  strategy, 
some  defense  untaught  in  any  of  the  drill  manuals,  could  save 
him.  And,  happily,  his  extremity  inspired  him  to  pick  a  win 
ner. 

Contriving  to  give  the  Moro  a  jab  in  the  chest  with  the  car 
bine  that  shoved  him  back  a  couple  of  steps,  Tony  dropped 
to  earth  on  the  flat  of  his  back,  both  feet  raised  and  knees 
bent. 

At  his  recumbent  enemy  the  Moro  sprang,  grinning  certain 
victory,  but  only  to  receive  a  violent  kick  in  the  pit  of  the 
stomach  that  hurled  him  ten  feet  away,  crashing  into  the  legs 
of  the  other  Moro  and  bowling  him  over  just  in  the  nick  of 
time  to  succour  the  soldier. 

For  an  instant  before  the  heavy  campilan  blade  had  shorn 
through  the  soldier's  wrist  and  rifle  stock,  leaving  one  arm 
handless  and  the  other  stockless,  and  was  raising  for  a  finish 
ing  stroke ! 

But  Tony's  strategy  sufficed. 

Two  snap  shots  from  his  .45  piled  the  pair  atop  of  his  bleed 
ing  comrade! 

And  then,  notwithstanding  the  great  blood  red  tropical  sun 
was  already  blazing  aloft  of  the  platanos,  for  Tony  trie  morn 
ing  faded  to  black  night. 


CHAPTER  XL 
A  MIRACLE  OF  A  PILLOW 

Wherever  in  the  world  was  he? 

Never  in  his  remarkably  adventurous  life  had  Tony  Trigg 
been  so  puzzled. 

Still  too  weak  to  lift  an  eyelid,  of  the  loss  of  blood  that  had 
licked  the  Moro's  kris,  nevertheless  his  brain  was  clearing. 

Wherever  in  the  world  was  he,  and  how  had  he  gotten  there? 

Certainly  he  was  at  sea,  in  some  small  boat,  lazily  rocking 
on  low,  short  swells. 

Gently,  oh!  so  very,  very  gently,  his  head  was  rising  and 
sinking,  rising  and  sinking  with  the  lifting  and  the  dipping 
of  the  bow. 

What  could  it  mean,  when  the  last  he  could  remember  was 
dropping,  spent  of  his  wounds,  on  the  bank  of  the  Degao, 
near  to  the  buried  Monobo  girl? 

Ah!  that  wonderful  little  wild  girl!  He  owed  her  his  life — 
if,  indeed  the  boat  that  now  bore  him  was  not  traversing  the 
S.tyx! 

But,  presently,  his  strength  slowly  returning,  feebly  his  lids 
lifted — and  then  his  wonder  grew. 

Yes,  there  could  be  no  doubt.  There  directly  aloft  of  him 
broad  leaves  of  the  platanos  were  idly  swaying — yes,  and 
higher  still  were  the  fronds  of  palms. 

However  the  devil  could  platanos  and  palms  be  rising  out 
of  rocking  waters? 

Well,  no  matter  how  they  came  there.  It  was  enough  that 
they  reassured  him  he  was  still  in  the  land  of  the  living. 

For  surely  no  nourishing  plant  life  is  reflected  from  the 
murky  current  of  the  River  of  Death! 

Queerest  thing  ever,  Tony  thought. 

Still,  evenly,  regularly,  his  head  was  rising  and  sinking  with 
the  lifting  and  the  dipping  of  the  bow,  as  the  boat  rode  the 
low  swells  and  slid  into  the  shallow  hollows. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

And  yet  there  above  him  towered  the  platanos  and  the  palms ! 

But  was  human  head  ever  so  delightfully  pillowed?  Cer 
tainly  his  had  never  been. 

A  downright  miracle  of  a  pillow  was  his. 

It  was  so  soft,  so  very,  very  soft,  and  warm,  blood  warm, 
just  like  burning,  hungry  human  flesh,  and — yes,  he  was  sure 
he  could  not  be  mistaken — damp,  yes,  it  was  damp ! 

But  such  a  sweet  pillow,  and  so  soft  he  did  not  mind  its 
dampness. 

And  then  he  began  to  worry.  Perhaps,  indeed,  he  was  dead. 
Whatever  but  a  downy  cloud  could  be  so  very  soft?  But  the 
palms  and  platanos? 

Why,  the  Mohammedans  believe  the  abode  of  their  Allah  is 
beside  palm-bordered  Celestial  Pools ;  if  such  their  Heaven, 
why  not  his? 

Dead?  Yes,  he  must  be  dead. 

Surely  none  but  the  waves  of  Celestial  Pools  could  lift  and 
dip  so  very  gently. 

Ah!  but  what  was  that?  Something  tenderly  brushed  his 
brow,  paused  and  lightly  toyed  with  his  auburn  curls,  toyed 
so  lightly  it  could  be  nothing  but  a  celestial  zephyr. 

But  no,  look,  he  must  look.  Were  not  those  tiny  brown 
fingers  that  appeared  for  an  instant  before  his  eyes,  and  then 
were  gone? 

Ha!  that  was  better.  Angels  are  white,  not  brown — sport 
wings,  not  fingers! 

But  he  must  look! 

And  when,  after  a  mighty  effort,  he  managed  to  turn  his 
head,  it  was  to  lay  his  cheek  upon  the  other  of  a  pair  of  naked , 
moist  breasts,  so  nearly  over  the  heart  that  its  strong  throbs 
told  him  he  was  listening  to  warmly  pulsing  life! 

Ha!  that  was  the  best  of  all;  that  would  do. 

Only  the  listening  living  can  hear  pulsing  life! 

Someone  was  holding  him,  some  woman  pillowing  his  head 
upon  her  bosom! 

Could  it  be  his  adored  Ruth?  Of  course.  Who  else  could  so 


A  MIRACLE  OF  A  PILLOW 

tenderly  mother  him?  And  yet  the  fingers  were  brown,  and 
how  had  he  gotten  back  to  Cotabato? 

But  the  mental  strain  and  the  moving  of  his  head  had  been 
too  much  for  him,  and  again  the  light  faded  and  left  all  the 
world  dark  to  Tony  Trigg. 


[179] 


CHAPTER  XLI 
THE  SON  OF  FIRE 

Shortly  the  dull-red  Mindanao  sun  would  sink  into  the 
farther  of  the  rice  paddys  that  had  been  Datu  Linta's. 

Acting  Governor  Joseph  Morine  had  just  finished  a  final 
conference  with  the  dead  Datu's  head  Saligan,  now  by  Mor- 
ine's  decree  become  the  Datu  Ishmael. 

For  Morine  it  had  been  a  very  anxious  as  well  as  a  busy  day, 
for  he  loved  the  rollicking,  devil-may-care  Tony  Trigg.  The 
red  blood  that  makes  eager,  stubborn  battlers  such  as  were 
they,  pulses  from  hearts  that  rarely  bestow  any  but  abiding 
affections.  Win  them  once,  and  you've  got  them  for  all  time, 
so  they  receive  a  fair  measure  of  the  affection  they  give  and  a 
fidelity  ecjual  to  theirs.  But  mind  you  don't  give  short  meas 
ure,  or  trifle! 

Throughout  the  day,  Tony's  life-light  had  been  flickering 
feebly,  all  but  out. 

At  sound  of  the  two  pistol  shots  that  had  dispatched  the 
Moros,  Morine  had  raced  to  Tony  with  a  detail  of  men. 

The  soldier  was  past  help.  From  the  artery  of  his  severed 
wrist,  the  last  drops  of  his  life  were  ebbing. 

Tony  lay  unconscious,  blood  streaming  from  his  side  and 
chest,  his  cheek  badly  slashed. 

As  Morine  bent  over  him  and  thumbed  his  pulse,  a  soft 
voice  almost  under  his  feet  lisped,  "Sacame,  'Mergan!  Sa- 
came  pronto! 

"Puedo  Salvarle!"  "Pull  me  out,  'Mergan!  Pull  me  out 
quick!  I  can  save  him!" 

Mindful  only  of  Tony,  he  had  all  but  stepped  on  the  buried 
Monobo  girl,  Datu  Linta's  slayer. 

For  some  moments  Morine  stood  looking  down  in  wonder 
and  pity  at  the  beautiful  brown  face,  now  splashed  with 
Tony's  blood. 

Then  he  gravely  smiled  and  said,  "Well,  little  one,  I  owe 

[181] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

you  freedom,  anyway — and  a  lot  more,"  and  set  his  men 
loosening  with  their  bayonets  the  heavy  black  loam  that  en 
tombed  her,  himself  turning  to  Tony. 

But  directly  again  the  girl  spoke,  "Quick,  'Mergan,  make 
them  work  quick;  I  can  save  him/' 

Doubtful,  but  humoring  her,  Morine  ordered  his  men  to 
hustle,  and  then  said  in  English,  "Ah,  ha!  you  little  pagan; 
you  think  you  have  some  cunning  heathen  medico  tricks  up — 
up  where  your  sleeve  ought  to  be.  Perhaps;  let's  see,"  adding 
in  Spanish,  "What's  your  name,  and  why  do  you  think  you 
can  save  him?" 

"Esa  is  a  medicine  woman,"  she  simply  replied. 

"Well,  Miss  Esa,  'medicine  baby'  would  describe  you  bet 
ter,  and  you  must  have  begun  your  medical  studies  at  your 
mother's  breast  at  that  if  you  really  know  anything  about  it. 
But  God  knows  we  need  you,  for  poor  Tony  looks  past  sav 
ing." 

"Fetch  water,  fire  and  green  bamboo,  'Mergan,"  she  ordered. 

"Right-o,  Miss  Medico,"  he  answered;  and  when  they  ar 
rived,  again  she  sharply  ordered,  "Fill  the  bamboo  with 
water  and  put  it  in  the  fire  to  boil — and  you  wash  his  wounds, 
'Mergan." 

"Well,  I'll  be  d-d,"  Morine  commented;  "regular  little 
colonel,  all  but  the  eagles  and  the  sword  belt!  Wonder 
whether  she's  a  grad.  of  West  Point,  Sandhurst  or  St.  Cyr!" 
but  got  busy  fast  enough. 

But  when  finally  they  lifted  her  from  the  muck  of  her  living 
tomb,  O  pity  of  pities!  nor  hand  nor  foot  could  the  brave 
little  one  lift! 

"Lay  me  beside  the  Son  of  Fire,"  she  ordered. 

"Lay  you  where?"  Morine  asked. 

"Beside  him"  fixing  her  big  almond  eyes  on  Tony. 

"Oh,  I  see;  that's  it.  Well,  if  you  only  knew  it,  Son  of  a  .45 
would  suit  him  better,  and  God  grant  he  comes  around  to 
use  one  again." 

Hard  she  struggled,  but  the  best  she  could  manage  was  to 
lay  her  tiny  fingers  on  Tony's  great  hand. 


THE  SON  OF  FIRE 

"Now,  'Mergan,"  she  called,  "open  my  waist  cloth  and  you 
will  find  medicine.  Quick!  But  quick!" 

Springing  at  her  will,  Morine  lifted  several  tiny  packets 
wrapped  in  leaves,  when  she  cried,  "That  one;  that  flat  one. 
Open,  and  rub  the  balsam  on  his  wounds." 

And  while  he  was  so  engaged,  yet  again  she  ordered,  "Your 
men;  make  one  put  half  the  herb  in  that  round  packet  in  the 
hot  water." 

Shortly,  under  the  healing  influence  of  the  balsam,  blood 
flow  stopped. 

And  when,  half  an  hour  later,  after  some  of  the  cooled  po 
tion  from  the  bamboo  tube  had  been  trickled  down  Tony's 
throat  and  color  began  to  show  in  his  face  and  his  pulse  to 
strengthen,  Morine  remarked: 

"Well,  Miss  Esa,  you're  a  brick!  But  at  which  the  best 
brick  I  can't  decide.  Don't  know  whether  to  recommend  you 
to  the  General  for  a  colonelcy  in  the  Constabulary  or  for 
Chief  of  the  Department  Medical  Corps!" 

But  since  the  observation  was  in  English,  Esa  remained 
ignorant  of  the  compliment. 

Meantime,  circulation  returning  to  her  long-prisoned  limbs, 
Esa  began  to  regain  control  of  them,  but  still  she,  too,  had  to 
be  carried  when  Tony  was  taken  on  a  stretcher  into  the  shade 
of  platanos  and  palms  abreast  of  the  launch. 

And  there  beside  him  throughout  the  livelong  day  she  had 
reclined,  pillowing  his  head  on  her  breast,  giving  him  of  her 
potion  now  and  then,  brushing  away  the  flies  and  thinking — 
ah,  none  but  Dewata  himself  could  tell  the  mad  thoughts 
seething  in  the  brain  of  this  youthful  adept  in  His  service,  or 
whether  they  had  been  inspired  entirely  by  Tony's  auburn 
curls  or  by  the  desperate  battle  in  which  she  had  seen  him 
fall  victor. 

Nor  respecting  their  safety  had  Morine  been  taking  any 
chances;  fearful  that  some  of  Linta's  Maratuns  might  seek 
to  revenge  themselves  upon  the  pair  responsible  for  the 
death  of  the  Datu  and  two  of  their  fellow-believers,  around 
them  all  day  he  maintained  a  heavy  guard  of  constabulary. 

[183] 


CHAPTER  XLII 
THE  MEETING  OF  ESA  AND  RUTH 

When,  just  at  sundown  of  the  day  of  Tony's  battle  on  the 
bank  of  the  Degao,  Morine  headed  his  launch  for  Cotabato, 
he  was  very  content  with  himself. 

The  conspiring  of  the  Datus  had  received  a  heavy  jolt,  suf 
ficient  to  lighten  his  anxieties  respecting  them  for  the  pres 
ent.  Telecoco,  the  Talker  to  Alligators,  remained  below 
bound  to  a  locker;  Linta,  he  of  the  displaced  ear,  was  now 
also  below — below  sod,  in  safe  storage  where  he  could  bother 
nobody  and  nobody  but  Balbal  could  bother  him. 

And  Tony  was  resting  easily  out  there  under  the  awning  in 
the  bow,  his  curls  still  pillowed  on  Esa's  breast. 

It  really  seemed  that  the  girl  had  saved  him,  brought  him 
back  from  the  edge  of  the  grave.  Her  balsams  had  worked  so 
magically  that  no  inflammation  of  the  wounds  had  develop 
ed,  and  her  herb  potion  was  holding  down  his  temperature 
effectively.  He  had  regained  consciousness,  but  now  was 
sleeping  quietly. 

Morine  and  Catron  marvelled.  Old  campaigners  as  they 
were,  they  had  never  seen  the  like  of  it.  Here  was  crude  sur 
gery  that  beat  all  the  epauletted  ethical  sawbones.  With  the 
best  of  them,  Tony  would  now  be  tossing  with  fever. 

But  Morine  was  worrying  as  well  as  marvelling  at  the  mo 
ment. 

"Catron,  if  it  had  not  been  downright  inhuman,  I'd  have 
left  that  Monobo  girl  behind." 

"But  why,  Joe?  You  certainly  owe  her  the  pacification  of 
Linta  and  we  all  owe  her  the  saving  of  Tony's  life." 

"Simply  because  it  strikes  me  she  spells  a  certain  legacy  of 
trouble  for  Tony,  and  very  possibly  of  danger  for  Ruth 
Snell." 

"Shoo;  nonsense,"  answered  the  less-observing  Catron. 

"But  look  at  her,  man,  out  there  still  holding  his  head.  She's 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

not  left  him  a  second  since  we  dug  her  out  of  her  grave.  She's 
mad  about  him.  Our  big  blond  men  are  ever  deadly  fascinat 
ing  to  these  dusky  daughters  of  the  Islands ;  and  when  one 
battles  for  any  of  them  grandly  as  did  he  for  her — why,  good 
God,  man,  don't  you  realize  that  she's  his  slave  for  life? 
Many  are  the  trifling  civilized  women  who'd  be  forgetting  it 
and  be  playing  all  sorts  of  false  tricks  in  a  few  months,  but  a 
savage  girl,  never." 

"Well,  I  must  say  there's  a  lot  of  sense  in  what  you  say, 
but—" 

"Sense,  Catron!  It's  law,  a  downright  law,  I  tell  you.  And 
it's  one  of  the  anomalies  of  life,  if  you  ask  me.  Think  of  it. 
The  native  tongue  of  that  Monobo  girl  holds  no  words  that 
signify  either  Love  or  Fidelity,  as  do  none  of  the  languages  of 
any  of  the  primitive  races,  and  yet,  by  the  Eternal,  you'll 
find  more  abiding  love  and  fidelity  among  savage  than  among 
civilized  women. 

"Love!  That  girl  Esa  don't  know  what  love  means.  She 
just  wants  a  man,  and  when  she  gets  him  she  wants  she  d— d 
well  sticks.  And  for  any  she  don't  want  who  try  to  get  gay 
with  her,  it's  mind  your  eye,  and  mind  it  a-plenty,  take  my 
word. 

"Why,  Linta  is  not  the  first  lover's  scalp  that  youngster  has 
literally  hung  in  her  belt.  Today  Ishmael  told  me  she's  the 
one  who  poisoned  old  Wa-Tu,  after  he  won  her  off  Ina  na 
Manuk  in  a  cock  fight  and  tried  to  elevate  her  to  the  queen- 
ship  of  his  harem." 

"You  don't  mean  it!"  Catron  cried  in  astonishment. 

"But  I  do.  She's  a  very  remarkable  girl,  for  a  pagan.  Ish 
mael  tells  me  she's  the  daughter  of  the  Lukus  and  Ingorandy 
of  one  of  the  Monobo  clans,  wised  by  her  father  in  all  their 
tribal  lore,  and  shrewd  old  Ina  na  Manuk  has  coached  her  in 
the  Koran  and  the  Luwaren  until  she's  fit  to  trot  the  Pun- 
ditas  and  Kalis  an  intellectual  heat — doubtless  did  it  to  add 
to  her  value,  make  her  fetch  a  bigger  price  from  some  rich 
shorter  of  a  harem.  And  Ishmael  says  Ina  na  Manuk  soaked 
Linta  a-plenty." 

[186] 


THE  MEETING  OF  ESA  AND  RUTH 

"Why,  if  you're  right  all  round,"  Catron  commented,  "she's 
a  positive  danger.  What'II  you  do  with  her?" 

"Well,  I  think  I'll  take  her  to  my  quarters,  and  then  put  in 
my  spare  time  hoping  she  don't  poison  me  for  keeping  her 
from  constant  attendance  on  Tony." 

"But  why  don't  you  take  the  poison  away  from  her?" 

"Because  I  can't  tell  which  is  which  of  the  contents  of  that 
medicine  bag  she  wears  in  her  waist  cloth,  and  she  seems  to 
be  as  great  at  curing  as  at  killing.  And  what's  the  use,  any 
way,  when  there's  always  a  bolo  handy!" 

It  was  about  an  hour  after  sunrise,  just  as  the  launch  was 
rounding  to  at  Cotabato,  that  Tony  roused,  strengthened  by 
his  sleep,  but  still  very  weak. 

The  tired  girl  was  drowsing,  her  beautiful  face  bent  low  over 
his,  a  cool,  brown  hand  resting  lightly  on  his  forehead. 

Roused  by  his  slight  movement,  Esa  awakened,  and  gazed 
anxiously  down  into  the  big  sky-blue  eyes,  keen  as  a  mother 
after  a  night  of  care  over  a  suffering  child. 

The  blue  eyes  smiled  up  at  her  and  Tony  whispered, 

"So?  It's  you  that's  been  on  guard.  Gracias,  gordita, — 
Thanks,  little  plump  one." 

Instantly  the  great  almond  eyes,  glistening  like  black  dia 
monds,  were  dancing  with  joy,  and  she  answered : 

"Safe!  You'll  live,  Son  of  Fire;  I  see  it  in  your  eyes.  But 
don't  talk." 

Hurrying  ashore  and  learning  that  the  post  surgeon  was 
down  of  a  bad  fever,  Morine  called  to  Catron,  "Captain,  take 
a  detail  of  men  and  see  Tony  safely  in  hospital,  and  tell  the 
hospital  steward  to  do  nothing  but  give  him  the  lightest 
nourishment,  not  to  monkey  with  his  wounds,  for  these  pa 
gan  dressings  are  doing  the  healing  trick  too  well  to  be  shift 
ed." 

But  when  he  directed  Esa  to  follow  him,  for  a  time  it  seemed 
that  nothing  short  of  force  would  tear  her  from  Tony.  And 
when  he  persisted,  wildly  the  black  eyes  roved,  as  if  in  search 
of  some  weapon.  Indeed,  only  was  she  persuaded  to  come 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

with  him  when  he  assured  her  that  shortly  she  would  again 
see  her  patient. 

Rapidly  he  marched  to  the  quarters  of  Ruth  Snell,  the  next 
set  beyond  his  own,  to  break  to  her  the  news  of  Tony's  in 
jury. 

Like  all  tropic  dwellers,  she  was  up  with  the  sun,  and  now 
seated  on  the  gallery,  enjoying  the  cool  morning  breeze. 

As  he  approached,  the  tall,  lean  figure  rose  and  her  big, 
violet  eyes  smiled  calmly  down  at  him  as  she  greeted : 

"Ah,  so  you  are  safely  returned  from  your  expedition,  Gov 
ernor?" 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Snell,"  Morine  answered;  "Back, 
yes,  but  Tony — " 

"What,  is  Captain  Trigg  injured?"  she  quietly  interrupted; 
"not  seriously,  I  trust." 

Shivering  a  bit  at  her  cool  self-possession,  he  replied,  "No, 
he's  not  in  a  serious  condition  now,  Miss  Snell.  He  had  the 
closest  call  ever,  but  now  I  think  he  is  out  of  danger,  thanks 
to  the  heathen  surgery  of  this  pagan  slave  girl." 

"A  pagan  slave  girl!  What  can  she  know  of  the  art  of  heal 
ing?" 

"Well,  not  much,  perhaps,  but  enough  to  save  a  man  from 
wounds  that  would  have  overtaxed  the  best  skill  of  most  sur 
geons,  in  my  opinion." 

"Upon  my  word.  That  is  indeed  remarkable,"  and  Ruth 
shifted  her  steady  gaze  to  Esa,  who  stood  before  her  in  all 
the  glory  of  exquisitely  rounded  shoulders,  impudently  pout 
ing  breasts  and  swelling  limbs,  naked  but  for  the  short  tunic 
that  scarcely  reached  her  knees,  black  blotches  of  Tony's 
blood  still  dotting  her  face  and  arms. 

Just  as  steadily  Esa  gazed  up  at  Ruth,  her  big  almond  eyes 
narrowed  with  suspicion,  wondering  what  she  could  be  to 
Tony,  for  already  Esa  had  come  to  recognize  the  name  his 
friends  gave  him.  But  presently  her  eyes  opened  and  soften 
ed — of  the  subtle  deduction  she  was  quick  to  draw  that  no 
woman  to  whom  Tony  meant  anything  could  hear  of  his 
hurts  and  stay  so  cold  and  still. 

[188] 


THE  MEETING  OF  ESA  AND  RUTH 

Typical  products  of  The  Stone  Age  and  The  Gold  Age  con 
fronted  each  other. 

The  passionless  daughter  of  the  snows  looked  down  upon 
her  hot-blooded  sister  of  the  jungle! 

The  one  the  victim  of  her  father's  brutal  greed,  the  other 
the  very  best  her  father's  savage  solicitude  could  make  her! 

And  how  Nature  itself  had  been  kinder  to  Esa  than  to  Ruth ! 

Above,  on  the  gallery,  stood  Ruth,  immaculate  in  a  beautiful 
gown  of  some  soft,  clinging  white  stuff,  a  blue  ribbon  at  her 
throat,  her  coldly  beautiful  face  and  head  framed  in  great 
masses  of  lovely  golden  hair — but  flat  and  drearily  unac- 
centuated  of  figure  as  a  rice  paddy. 

Below,  on  the  ground,  stood  Esa,  nigh  naked,  dirty,  her  wild 
black  locks  shockingly  tousled,  but  owning  a  riotous  wealth 
of  beauty  of  face  and  body  that  would  make  even  the  Sphinx 
turn  its  head  in  intoxicated  contemplation  of  her  every 
graceful  movement. 

"Such  a  distressingly  dirty  little  heathen!"  Ruth  presently 
observed. 

"Yes,  but  you  see  she's  not  taken  the  time  to  fuss  with  her 
toilet  since  Tony  was  hurt  yesterday  morning.  Hasn't  left 
his  side  for  an  instant,  until  just  now,  since  sunup  yesterday." 

"Indeed;  quite  a  remarkable  little  person,  isn't  she?" 

"Well,  I  fancy  you'll  be  sure  of  it  when  you  come  to  learn 
her  story,  but  I've  not  time  for  that  now.  And,  by  the  way,  I 
suppose  you'll  go  directly  up  to  Tony  at  the  hospital?" 

"Why,  no,  Governor,  I  don't  see  how  I  can,  until  the  after 
noon.  You  see  it's  time  for  my  morning  class,"  Ruth  indif 
ferently  answered;  "I  suppose  the  hospital  steward  will  be 
looking  after  him." 

Whereupon  Morine  turned  and  strode  nervously  toward 
his  quarters,  angrily  muttering  to  himself: 

''Jesus,  look  up  that  Snell  girl's  family  tree  and  I'll  bet  you'll 
find  it  loaded  with  icicles!  She  frappes  me  from  the  knees 
up  every  time  I  get  near  her.  Poor  Tony!  Cold-decked  in 
the  chilliest  she  freeze-out  game  I  ever  saw !  How  in  hell  can 
he  stand  it?" 

[189] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Just  as  they  reached  his  quarters,  he  laid  his  hand  gently 
on  Esa's  tousled  head  and  gravely  murmured,  "Little  wom 
an,  you're  worth  a  million  of  her;  in  a  race  with  her  for  any 
real  man,  my  money  would  go  on  you,  but  I'm  far  from  sure 
you've  done  Tony  a  good  turn  by  saving  him." 

Having  consigned  Esa  to  the  care  of  his  native  servants, 
the  dog-tired  Governor  dropped  into  a  long  lounge  chair  for 
a  doze,  but  before  closing  his  eyes  he  growled : 

"Beats  hell  that  the  higher  civilization  rarely  manages  to 
produce  more  than  two  types  of  women — one  with  so  few 
nerves  they're  impossible,  the  other  with  more  nerves  than 
it's  ever  comfortaole  to  live  with!" 


[190] 


CHAPTER  XLIII 
ESA  WANTS  THE  SON  OF  FIRE 

When,  shortly  before  tiffin,  Morine  took  Esa,  now  neatly 
habited  as  a  Moro  girl,  up  to  the  hospital,  to  administer  to 
Tony  another  dose  of  her  marvellous  potion,  he  found  the 
patient  resting  easily. 

Immediately  they  arrived  and  before  Morine  had  time  to 
speak,  Tony  anxiously  asked: 

"But  Ruth,  have  you  not  told  Ruth?" 

"Sure,  Tony;  the  first  thing  this  morning,  while  you  were 
being  carried  up  here." 

"My  God,  but  she  must  have  the  fever;  she  has  not  been  up 
to  see  me." 

"On  the  contrary,  Tony,  she's  well;  never  better,"  answered 
Morine,  with  a  shadow  of  a  cynical  smile. 

"Strange,  then,  that  she  does  not  come  to  me.  Do  you  know 
why,  Joe?" 

"Why,  Tony,  she  said  it  was  the  hour  for  her  class  and 
she'd—" 

"Well,  PII  be  d— d!  Her  class?  And  that's  keeping  her  from 
me,  when  I'm  brought  in  about  the  most  finished  article  of 
human  hash  that  Moro  had  time  to  turn  me  into!" 

And  then,  turning  his  head  feebly  and  looking  up  at  Esa, 
he  added,  "Well,  you're  here,  my  lovely  little  doctor,  and  I 
guess  it's  up  to  me  to  thank  you  that  I  am  here.  Isn't  that 
right,  Joe?" 

"Absolutely  right,  my  boy,"  answered  Morine;  "it  would 
have  been  The  Dead  March  and  a  volley  across  a  grave  for 
you  but  for  this  little  pagan." 

"Just  as  I  thought;  and  do  you  know,  Joe,  that  makes  the 
second  time  she's  saved  my  life;  for  in  the  fight  I  lost  my 
balance,  and  my  guard  with  it,  but  when  the  Moro  threw  a 
foot  back  for  a  spring  to  finish  me,  that  girl's  teeth  nipped 
his  ankle  so  hard  that  I  had  time  to  recover  my  guard." 

[191] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"Well,  well,  Tony,"  responded  Morine,  "that  leaves  it 
horse  and  horse  between  you  and  the  girl,  for  you  certainly 
saved  her  life  as  much  as  she  saved  yours.  Had  the  Moro 
finished  you,  he  surely  would  have  killed  her.  So  forget  it; 
just  d— d  well  forget  it." 

Again  Tony's  eyes  lifted  to  Esa,  who  throughout  the  con 
versation  had  been  gazing  at  him  fixedly,  and  as  he  looked 
at  her  his  face  lighted  with  a  sense  of  gratitude  that  was  so 
nearly  merged  into  actual  tenderness  that  in  an  instant  the 

firl's  face  was  all  aglow  with  joy  and  she  dropped  on  her 
nees  beside  him  and  seized  his  hand  and  pressed  it  to  her 
breast. 

Then,  looking  up  at  Morine,  she  said,  "Saved;  he's  saved; 
Esa  told  you,  'Mergan,  she'd  save  him." 

"Yes,  little  one,"  Morine  answered,  "you  have  certainly 
made  your  word  good  most  handsomely.  Pero  olivdale  cbica 
— forget  it,  little  one.  He  saved  you  and  you  saved  him,  so 
you're  quits,  you're  even,  no?" 

"Ah,  yes,  'Mergan;  the  Son  of  Fire  saved  Esa.  Ha,  you 
should  have  seen  how  he  fought!  Forget  it,  'Mergan?  Per 
haps  Esa  may  forget  it  when  she's  dead,  but  not  before.  But 
for  Esa  he  would  be  dead — the  alligators  would  be  eating 
him — that  makes  him  Esa's.  Esa  wants  the  Son  of  Fire.  No 
one  can  take  him  from  Esa.  Esa  is  his  slave.  Esa  will  kill  for 
him — will  kill  herself  if  he  orders  it." 

The  tones  of  Esa's  voice  as  she  lisped  her  thought  in  broken 
Spanish,  were  low  and  sweet  and  musical  as  ever,  but  they 
rung  with  a  firmness  that  spelled  such  finality  of  purpose 
that  Morine  remarked  to  Tony  in  English : 

"Here's  a  big  order  for  you,  my  boy,  a  heavy  responsibility. 
I  hope  you  will  deal  with  it  justly  and  discreetly.  Doubtless 
you  will  agree  it  would  be  best  that  she  be  sent  directly  to 
another  station." 

"Why,  Joe,  I  suppose  you're  right.  But  not  just  now,  old 
boy,  please."  Adding,  with  a  faint  flicker  of  a  smile,  "You 
see,  maybe  she's  not  quite  finished  my  cure  yet,  and  perhaps 

[  192] 


ESA  WANTS  THE  SON  OF  FIRE 

our  sawbones  would  not  pull  me  through  so  quickly  and 
surely." 

"Right  about  the  cure  and  sawbones;  but  if  she  stays,  mind 
she  don't  finish  by  killing.  Pardon,  old  chap,  but  you're  not 
forgetting  you've  invited  Miss  Snell  to  sit  into  your  game  of 
life." 

"Sure,  Joe;  no  fear;  I'm  not  likely  to  be  forgetting  that." 

Call  for  tiffin  had  sounded,  and  as  Morine  walked  out  of  the 
ward,  leaving  the  youthful  surgeon  with  her  patient,  he 
grumbled  to  himself,  "Fear!  By  the  Eternal,  there  is  no  end 
of  fear — fear  for  the  life  of  Ruth  Snell  or  of  Tony,  and  prob 
ably  for  them  both.  But  that's  their  game." 

When,  an  hour  later,  Ruth  Snell  entered  the  ward,  Tony 
was  dozing  lightly  and  Esa  sat  crouched  beside  his  cot. 

At  Ruth's  approach,  he  awakened,  and  his  eyes  so  lighted 
with  the  delight  of  seeing  his  fiancee  that  it  brought  a  fierce 
scowl  on  Esa's  face  and  set  her  trembling. 

And  when,  after  a  thoroughly  kindly  but  altogether  un 
demonstrative  greeting,  Ruth  reached  out  to  smooth  his  pil 
low,  up  sprang  Esa  and  hissed  through  shut  teeth : 

"Dcjele!  Es  mio,  el!"  "Let  him  alone!  He  is  mine!" 

After  looking  at  her  a  moment  in  quiet  surprise,  Ruth  said : 
"But  I  don't  quite  understand,  Tony;  what  does  this  little 
savage  mean?" 

"Why,  Ruth,  you  see  she's  a  little  Monobo  slave  girl,  con 
demned  to  die  by  the  Kali. 

"She  had  killed  the  Datu  Linta,  to  escape  being  forced  to 
life  in  his  harem,  and  had  been  buried  to  her  neck  in  the 
ground  to  starve  or  die  of  the  sun. 

"Joe  sent  me  to  rescue  her,  and  while  digging  her  out  we 
were  jumped  by  Moros  and  nearly  done  for.  She's  really  a 
wonderful  little  thing,  and  the  potion  and  balsams  she  direct 
ed  Joe  how  to  make  and  use  have  certainly  pulled  me  through. 
And,"  glancing  over  at  Esa  with  an  indulgent  smile,  "she 
seems  to  have  the  usual  professional  jealousy  of  interference 
with  her  patient." 

"Ah,  I  see;  that  explains  it,"  replied  Ruth,  "but  really  she 

[193] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

looks  so  like  a  little  tigress  at  bay  in  defence  of  her  young 
that  I  was  almost  frightened." 

"Nothing  to  be  afraid  about,  dear,"  Tony  reassured  her. 
"You  know  the  government  owes  her  a  lot  for  removing  Datu 
Linta  from  the  trouble  zone,  and  Joe  swears  I  owe  her  my 
life;  and  I've  been  thinking,  Ruth,  darling,  that  perhaps  you 
might  take  her  into  your  school.  Plainly  we  cannot  send  her 
back  among  the  Moros,  for  that  would  be  sending  her  to  cer 
tain  death  at  their  hands." 

"Why,  certainly  I'll  do  that,  Tony.  And  the  Governor  seems 
to  think  she's  such  a  very  unusual  girl  that  I  think  I  should 
even  like  to  do  more  for  her.  I  shall  want  to  have  her  under 
observation  for  a  few  days,  of  course,  first;  but,  I  think  I 
should  like  to  adopt  her — to  make  a  prolonged  and  persist 
ent  effort  to  see  what  can  be  done,  what  progress  can  be 
made  in  the  civilization  of  a  virtually  wild  pagan.  Indeed, 
for  some  time  I  have  had  such  a  test  in  mind,  and  have  only 
been  waiting  to  find  an  interesting  subject  for  the  test." 

"Why,  Ruth,  the  actual  adoption  of  any  savage  girl  would 
be  rather  a  bold  experiment,  would  it  not?" 

"Yes,  Tony,  undoubtedly;  but  you  know  my  heart  is  in 
this  work  and  I  am  profoundly  interested  to  try  to  learn  just 
what  we  may  expect  to  accomplish  toward  civilizing  the 
young  of  the  wild  tribes  as  well  as  of  the  Moros,  and  this  can 
only  be  done  by  prolonged  control  and  influence  of  a  chosen 
subject." 

"Well,  darling,  in  any  event  you  should  think  it  over  care 
fully  before  deciding,  but  undoubtedly  we  owe  her  protec 


tion/3 


Then,  turning  to  Esa,  Tony  said,  "Esa,  you  will  go  with 
this  kind  lady  and  will  always  do  just  what  she  says.  She 
will  teach  you  to  talk  as  we  'Mergans  talk,  and  will  teach 
you  to  read  as  you  have  seen  the  Kalis  and  Punditas  read 
their  language." 

A  bright  smile  lighted  Esa's  face  as  she  answered,  "But  Esa 
can  read  the  Moro's  writing  and  Esa  knows  the  Koran  and 
the  Luwaren;  Ina  na  Manuk  taught  her." 


ESA  WANTS  THE  SON  OF  FIRE 

"The  deuce  you  do,  girl,"  Tony  answered;  "that  should  help 
you  to  very  quickly  learn  our  tongue.  And  if  you  are  always 
careful  to  do  just  what  this  lady  says,  she  will  be  very  kind  to 
you  and  may  teach  you  more." 

"Esa  will  try,  Esa  knows  all  the  magic  of  her  people,  much 
of  that  of  the  Moros,  and  she  would  know  the  magic  of  the 
'Mergans." 

"Magic,  child?"  interposed  Ruth;  "what  do  you  mean?" 

"Why  the  wonderful  writing  magic  by  which  you  put  down 
your  thoughts  without  speaking." 

Ruth's  face  brightened  with  pleasure  and  she  said  to  Tony : 
"Ah,  dear,  here's  the  very  child  I've  been  seeking;  here  seems 
to  be  intelligence  and  much  more  than  usual  willingness  to 
learn. 

"But  tell  me,  Tony,  you  must  have  suffered  terribly  of  these 
awful  wounds." 

"Why,  no,  Ruth,  dear;  scarcely  any.  The  fact  is,  the  Moro's 
kris  bled  rne  so  heavily  I  just  faded  away  into  the  happy  land 
of  forgetfulness ;  and  Esa's  medicines  have  so  well  kept  down 
inflammation  and  fever  that  since  I  regained  consciousness 
I've  suffered  little — except  of  the  burning  desire  to  see  you, 
darling.  I  sort  of  thought  you  would  run  to  me  as  soon  as  you 
heard  I  was  brought  in  hurt.  But  I  suppose  that's  unreason 
able  of  me — expecting  too  much." 

But  thinly  veiled  as  was  his  mild  chiding,  it  had  no  moving 
effect  on  the  lady  of  the  snows,  who  had  not  so  much  as  laid  a 
cool  hand  on  his  brow  or  even  permitted  her  face  to  express  a 
shadow  of  concern — while  all  the  time  the  knitted  brow,  the 
nervously  playing  nostrils  and  the  fiercely  intent  eyes  of  the 
little  brown  lady  of  the  jungle  that  never  shifted  from  Tony's 
face,  bespoke  a  heart  consumed  with  anxiety  and  overflow 
ing  with  love. 

It  was  in  the  most  casual  tones  that  Ruth  replied: 

"Expecting  too  much?  Why  certainly  not,  Tony.  Had  there 
been  any  pressing  necessity,  I  should  have  come  straightway. 
But  first,  of  course,  is  my  duty  to  my  pupils,  and  time  was 
coming  for  my  morning  class  when  the  Governor  brought  me 

[195] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

the  news.  And  then  I  reasoned  that  since,  after  all,  the  care 
of  wounds  is  best  left  to  those  trained  and  experienced  in  their 
scientific  treatment,  and  that  you  were  safely  settled  in  the 
hospital  under  the  observation  and  care  of  its  staff,  you  would 
not  be  needing  me  particularly,  anyway." 

"Oh!  And  so  you  reasoned  all  that,  did  you,  dear?  Impulse, 
no  mandate  of  your  heart,  ever  gets  the  better  of  that  reason 
ing  machinery  of  yours,  does  it?" 

"Why,  certainly  I  hope  not,  my  boy.  How  can  any  sound- 
thinking  being  become  the  victim  of  impulse?  Giving  way 
to  impulse  commits  one  to  indiscretions.  Order  and  organi 
zation  are  never  enjoyed  by  such  as  give  way  to  impulses. 
Only  those  who  reason  may  so  profit  themselves." 

"Well,  dear,"  Tony  ruefully  replied,  "you  may  be  right — 
that  may  be  the  right  view  of  life  from  your  perch  on  Venus 
or  Jupiter,  from  whichever  of  the  remoter  planets  you're  look 
ing  down  from.  But,  personally,  I'd  trust  one  good,  healthy, 
athletic  impulse  to  jump  me  up  more  joy  than  any  thousand 
reasons  and  all  the  order  and  organization  they  might  pro 
duce." 

"Ah,  there  you  go  again,  you  great,  raw  caveman,"  Ruth 
indulgently  smiled.  "You're  incorrigible.  But  still  your  im 
pulses  I  can  trust,  for  I'm  sure  you'll  never  have  a  bad  one." 

"Ha!  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  Tony  grinned.  "I'm  suffer 
ing  all  the  time  from  one  impulse  you'd  never  approve  of, 
that  may  get  the  best  of  me  any  time — once  I'm  up  and  a- 
round  again." 

"And  what's  that,  boy,  pray?" 

"Nothing  less  than  the  impulse  to  seize,  and  kiss  and  crush 
you,  sweetheart,  no  less." 

"Approve  it?  No,  Tony,  I  could  not,  for  that's  about  the 
last  of  the  stupid  extravagances  of  impulse.  Surely  two  peo 
ple  may  esteem  and — ah,  be  fond  of  each  other — without  so 
exhausting  themselves." 

"Exhausting  themselves!  Well,  Ruth,  you  see  you  never 
tried  that  form  of  hard  labor,  so  maybe  you're  wrong,  maybe 
you  don't  know.  As  for  me,  I'd  back  myself  to  take  the  heav- 


ESA  WANTS  THE  SON  OF  FIRE 

iest  punishment  of  that  sort  through  a  dozen  rounds  before  I 
was  counted  out." 

And  as  Ruth,  after  pleading  the  call  of  her  duties,  signed  to 
Esa  to  follow  her  and  turned  to  leave  the  ward,  hot  little 
brown  fingers  crushed  his  hand  and  the  great  love  beaming 
from  a  pair  of  almond  eyes  left  him  no  doubt  where  such  im 
pulses  might  be  indulged  by  him  without  offense — or  stint. 

And  as  the  little  brown  lady  of  the  jungle  whirled  and  swift 
ly  followed  the  tall  white  lady  of  the  snows,  Tony  shut  his 
eyes  and  bit — his  own  lip. 


197] 


CHAPTER  XLIV 
STRANGE  WOMEN,  THESE  'MERGANS 

Her  removal  from  the  household  of  Governor  Morine  to 
that  of  Ruth  was  little  to  Esa's  liking.  But  the  Son  of  Fire 
had  ordered  it.  Basta!  Enough.  His  will  was  hers. 

For  a  time  it  was  not  so  very  hard,  so  long  as  she  was  per 
mitted  to  retain  the  loose  and  scant  Moro  costume  to  which 
she  had  become  fairly  accustomed. 

But  when  after  a  few  weeks,  indeed  before  Tony  had  suf 
ficiently  recovered  from  his  wounds  to  be  up  and  around  long, 
Esa's  quick  intelligence  and  eagerness  to  learn  had  actually 
carried  her  quite  to  the  lead  of  all  Ruth's  scholars,  and  finally 
decided  Ruth  to  put  in  practice  her  plan  to  adopt  the  girl, 
then  came  serious  trials. 

First  the  dreadful  'Mergan  clothes ! 

How  close  and  hot  they  were,  and  how  the  long  skirts  ham 
pered  the  freedom  of  limbs  that  had  known  little  more  re 
straint  than  those  of  a  deer,  and  what  terrors  were  the  stock 
ings,  and  how  the  shoes  pinched! 

And  then  the  stifling,  hot  bed  she  was  put  into!  How  she 
hated  it!  But  that  she  could  easily  beat — by  quietly  slipping 
out  of  it  to  a  mat  on  the  floor  shortly  after  the  night's  pray 
ers  were  said  and  the  lights  out. 

Only  when  she  was  caught,  as  now  and  then  she  was  by  the 
inconsiderate  straying  in  of  a  vagrant  moonbeam  before 
Ruth  had  dropped  asleep,  then  a  thin,  white-clad  figure  little 
thicker  than  the  meager  stalk  of  a  cana  brava  would  come 
across  to  chide  her,  and  back  into  her  sweat  box  she  would 
have  to  go. 

But  worst  of  all  were  the  formalities  of  eating,  the  sitting 
stiffly  on  a  high  chair,  when  all  but  fools  and  the  'Mergans 
well  know  that  it's  a  thousand  times  more  comfortable  to  eat 
while  squatted  or  reclining  on  a  nice  cool  mat!  And  the  silly 
implements  the  'Mergans  use  to  feed  themselves,  uncontent 

[199] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

with  the  far  defter  fingers  and  generous  palms  by  use  of  which 
one  may  feast  to  surfeit  in  half  the  time! 

At  all  this  or  the  half  of  it,  Esa  would  have  rebelled  for  sure 
but  for  two  considerations: 

First,  that  here  she  was  farther  than  ever  from  her  tree-top 
home  at  the  foot  of  Mt.  Apo,  and  now  she  well  knew,  since 
the  slaying  of  Linta,  in  none  of  the  intervening  Moro  villages 
or  rancherias  could  she  find  asylum  safe  from  the  old  raider, 
Ishmael. 

And,  second,  that  here,  just  here  among  the  'Mergans  in 
Cotabato,  she  was  near  to  the  Son  of  Fire,  the  one  thing  in  all 
the  world  she  loved  better  than  her  free,  wild  life  in  the  jungle. 

He,  the  Son  of  Fire,  had  bid  her  do  all  the  white  lady  order 
ed.  Did  she  less,  hers  might  be  a  punishment  she  could  never 
stand — he  would  certainly  be  angry  with  her.  And  that  would 
kill  Esa.  Esa  wanted  him,  and  one  does  not  get  those  one 
makes  angry.  Ah,  yes,  she  must  do  what  she  was  told,  just 
the  same  as  a  mandate  of  Dewata  brought  to  Usup  by  Too- 
mulkun  and  interpreted  by  Usup  to  her. 

In  the  school  she  delighted.  It  was  his  tongue  she  was  learn 
ing  to  speak — and  the  magic  by  which  you  put  it  down  on 
paper,  only,  by  Munowog's  big  black  eggs,  would  she  ever 
live  long  enough  to  learn  that?  She  was  afraid  not. 

But  greatest  of  all  her  delights  were  the  evenings  Tony  was 
now  spending  at  their  house. 

Ah,  what  a  joy  to  see  the  splendid  tall  figure  extended  in  one 
of  their  long  lounge  chairs  and  the  flaming  curls  resting  on  its 
pillow,  the  curls  and  the  beautiful  head  they  covered  that  for 
a  whole  day  and  night  had  not  left  her  breast ! 

Father  of  Alligators,  but  might  he  not  send  all  his  ugly  brood, 
to  the  last  one,  to  catch  and  devour  Esa,  and  welcome,  so  she 
might  for  just  one  hot,  sweet-scented  jungle  night  clasp  her 
arms  around  the  neck  that  held  that  splendid,  flaming  head, 
when  he  should  again  be  well  and  very  strong  and  should  be 
looking  down  into  her  eyes  as  up  into  her  eyes  his  eyes  had 
looked  when  the  'Mergan  chief  had  taken  her  to  see  him  in 
the  sick  house,  where  they  had  carried  him ! 

[200] 


STRANGE  WOMEN,  THESE  'MERGANS 

One  such  glorious  night  with  the  Son  of  Fire!  Ah!  Basta! 
That  would  do.  Then  Esa  could  die  happy ! 

But,  nevertheless,  great  as  was  her  joy  of  his  visits,  always 
did  they  stir  in  her  anxieties — that  finally  crystallized  into  a 
terrible  conviction. 

That  dreadful  tongue  of  theirs !  Would  she  never  learn  to 
understand  it.  What  were  they  saying?  They  talked  so  much, 
and  the  Son  of  Fire  always  so  earnestly.  Yes,  and  often  his 
eyes  lighted  while  he  was  looking  at  the  white  lady  as  they 
did  when  he  looked  up  at  her  from  his  cot  in  the  hospital. 

How  about  that?  Did  he  think  so  very  much  of  her?  No,  it 
could  not  be,  else  she  would  be  looking  at  him  in  the  same 
way  and  always  wanting  to  touch  him. 

And  yet  she  never  did  either. 

What  was  she,  anyway?  Ha !  Perhaps  just  a  sort  of  human 
vine  without  a  grip,  the  sort  that  hangs  without  ever  taking 
hold. 

Strange  women  must  be  these  'Mergans. 

Fancy  any  woman  in  all  the  world  who  could  receive  such  a 
look  from  the  Son  of  Fire  and  not  want  to  touch  him ! 

It  must  be  something  else  he  cares  a  great  deal  about  of 
which  he  talks  to  her. 

Perhaps  it  was  about  the  school,  or,  maybe,  about  her,  Esa. 
But  no.  That  could  not  be,  for  since  he  had  come  out  of  the 
sick  house,  while  always  gentle  with  her,  never  had  he  so  look 
ed  at  Esa  again. 

Why  not? 

Ah!  Now  that  he  is  so  looking  at  the  white  woman  it  must 
mean  that  the  Son  of  Fire  wants  her! 

But  she,  the  white  woman,  cannot  want  him,  for  she  never 
so  looks  at  him,  but  perhaps  that  is  because  white  women  do 
not  show  their  wants  in  their  faces. 

This  is  simply  terrible.  Esa  must  be  very,  very  careful,  just 
like  she  was  stalking  a  deer  in  the  jungle,  to  get  near  enough 
to  kill  it  with  one  of  her  blow-gun  darts. 

And  that  white  woman  had  best  take  care. 

The  Son  of  Fire  should  never  be  for  her. 

[201  ] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

But  shrewd  as  were  most  of  the  jungle  girl's  deductions,  on 
this  particular  evening  she  was  altogether  wide  of  the  mark 
on  the  actual  subject  of  the  conversation  of  Ruth  and  Tony. 

They  were  talking  of  the  school  problem  in  general  and  of 
the  many  always  difficult  and  often  weirdly  absurd  situa 
tions  it  developed. 

In  fact,  Ruth  was  very  highly  praising  Esa,  but  alluded  to 
her  so  indirectly  that  Esa  did  not  realize  it. 

"Tony,"  Ruth  said,  "I  had  a  very  bad  morning  at  the  school 
— and  the  truth  is  you  came  very  near  losing  your  Ruth." 

"Why,  however  was  that?" 

"Well,  you  see  I  asked  the  Governor  to  keep  it  from  you  so 
I  might  tell  you  myself.  But  had  you  been  well,  I  should  have 
sent  someone  on  a  run  to  fetch  you  to  deal  with  that  big 
Moro  brute,  Tumog." 

"But  for  God's  sake  what  happened,  sweetheart?" 

"Well,  to  begin,  you  must  know  that  the  few  schools  in  the 
outside  districts  have  been  getting  on  badly.  The  American 
teachers,  like  myself,  are  totally  ignorant  of  the  Moro  dia 
lects,  and  the  few  Hindus  and  Armenians  so  employed  know 
little  Moro  and  are  wholly  unfitted  by  experience  or  temper 
to  teach  wild  children. 

"At  first,  the  Datus  and  privileged  class  were  induced  to 
send  many  of  their  children  to  school,  but  what  was  the  re 
sult?  Their  utter  inability  to  understand  what  their  teach 
ers  were  driving  at  so  balked  and  vexed  the  teachers  that 
they  began  violently  beating  them.  Fancy  it;  beating  chil 
dren  who  had  never  known  the  weight  of  a  finger  from  their 
parents,  and  for  no  cause  but  the  teacher's  ignorance  of  the 
pupil's  tongue! 

"Naturally,  all  such  children  were  withdrawn  from  the 
schools,  leaving  as  their  only  pupils  a  few  children  of  the 
Moro  masses  and  of  their  slaves. 

"And  to  remedy  this  situation,  the  best  the  Governor  could 
do  has  been  to  persuade  the  Datus  that,  if  their  children  do 
not  profit  by  attending  our  schools,  in  another  generation 
the  lower  class  of  their  own  people  and  their  slaves  must  cer- 

[  202  ] 


STRANGE  WOMEN,  THESE  'MERGANS 

tainly  be  superior  to  them,  and  that,  hence,  since  they  will 
not  let  their  children  go  to  the  local  schools,  their  only  chance 
to  benefit  them  is  to  send  them  here  to  Cotabato,  where, 
under  the  Governor's  supervision,  he  can  guarantee  that 
there  shall  be  no  bodily  punishment  except  for  gross  misbe 
havior  or  violence." 

"Yes,  I've  heard  of  it,"  interposed  Tony;  "and  that's  had 
the  result  to  bring  into  your  school  a  lot  of  the  children  of  the 
Datus  that  even  includes  a  few  grown  men  of  twenty  and 
thirty.'; 

"Precisely;  and  it  is  just  this  which  has  more  than  doubled 
the  difficulties  of  my  situation,  because  the  grown  and  half- 
grown  are  both  slower  to  learn  and  harder  to  discipline." 

"Sure;  it's  a  mistake;  yes,  more,  it's  a  shame  and  an  outrage 
to  expect  any  woman  teacher  to  receive  and  have  to  handle 
as  pupils  grown  Moro  boys ;  and  it's  even  a  danger,  for  such 
young  men  by  the  custom  of  generations  at  all  times  wear 
their  arms." 

"Quite  so;  and  today  I  had  to  confront  such  an  emergency 
that  was  near  costing  me  my  life." 

"Heavens,  dear,  you  don't  mean  it!  You  should  have  sent 
for  me." 

"But,  first,  Tony,  there  was  no  time,  and,  secondly,  you're 
far  too  weak  to  be  excited  or  have  your  strength  taxed  in 
such  an  emergency." 

"But  what  was  it?  Tell  me,  dear;  what  happened?" 

"Well,  altogether  the  most  unruly  of  my  lot  is  a  big,  husky 
youth  of  twenty,  Tumog,  the  son  of  the  Datu  Dikaya.  From 
the  first  he  has  defied  all  class  discipline  and  has  constantly 
been  vexing  me  by  disturbances  of  class  routine.  And  when 
I've  had  the  boy  interpreter  I'm  using  advise  him  that  he 
must  do  as  he  is  told  or  leave  the  school,  he  has  answered  that 
he  will  not  leave  the  school  and  will  do  as  he  pleases. 

"All  but  Tumog  and  one  other  I  had  managed  to  persuade 
to  leave  their  arms  off  when  coming  to  school,  and  these  two, 
in  order  to  hold  them  under  close  observation,  I  had  been 
placing  in  the  front  row  near  to  my  desk. 

[203] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"For  the  last  two  days  the  pair  have  been  so  ugly  that  this 
morning  I  determined  to  rid  myself  of  them,  never  dreaming 
of  actual  violence. 

"But  when,  through  my  interpreter,  I  ordered  them  to  leave 
the  school  and  never  to  return  to  it,  up  sprang  Tumog,  draw 
ing  his  kris  and  his  eyes  glaring  murder." 

"Great  God,  you  don't  mean  it!" 

"And  there's  no  doubt  I  owe  my  life  to  your  little  brown 
doctor.  It  is  not  often  one  gets  such  definite  reward,  and  nev 
er  so  early,  of  one's  strivings  to  do  good  for  others. 

"But  I'm  now  convinced  my  decision  to  adopt  that  young 
girl  was  no  less  than  an  inspiration  from  God. 

"Of  course,  from  day  to  day  Esa  has  seen  my  difficulties  with 
Tumog  and  has  heard  his  insolent  and  almost  threatening 
answers.  And  it  was  her  vigilance  and  bravery  that  saved 
me. 

"Seated  immediately  behind  the  two  armed  youths,  no 
more  was  Tumog  on  his  feet  and  lifting  his  kris  for  a  spring 
at  me,  than  Esa  snatched  the  kris  from  the  waist  cloth  of  his 
companion  and  struck  him.  But  the  emergency  was  so  great, 
and  it  all  had  to  be  done  so  quickly  that  while  the  weight  of 
her  blow  stunned  him,  it  was  only  a  glancing  stroke  that 
sheared  off  a  half  handbreadth  of  his  scalp." 

"Heavens,  how  fortunate!  Thank  God!  Now  we  both  owe 
her  our  lives.  That  little  savage  is  just  a  wonder,  no  less. 
And  you  know,  darling,  I've  been  thinking  lately  that  if  you 
manage  to  make  her  like  you,  no  danger  can  ever  reach  you 
save  over  her  dead  body." 

"Yes,  Tony,  I  think  you  are  right.  But  Esa  has  such  a 
frightfully  uncontrollable  temper  that  when  anything  rouses 
her  she  sees  nothing  but  red  and  stops  at  nothing. 

"Why,  do  you  know  it  took  all  my  influence  to  stop  her 
from  finishing  Tumog  right  there.  She  was  raising  her  kris 
to  chop  his  head  off  when  I  sprang  at  her  and  pushed  her 
back,  at  which  she  bounded  forward,  gave  me  a  shove  that 
sent  me  reeling  and  sprang  after  me  as  if  to  attack  me.  But 
as  she  got  the  look  of  utter  terror  that  must  have  been  in  my 

[204] 


STRANGE  WOMEN,  THESE  'MERGANS 

face,  Esa  laughed  wildly  and  turned  and  stood  over  her  vic 
tim,  ready  to  deal  with  him. 

"I  then  managed  to  control  her  by  telling  her  I  relied  on  her 
to  stand  guard  over  him  until  I  could  get  help,  but  that  she 
must  not  strike  him  unless  he  tried  to  rise. 

"Then  I  rushed  a  messenger  over  to  headquarters,  and  soon 
the  Governor  was  with  me  and  had  Tumog  dragged  away." 

"And  what  has  Joe  done  with  that  fellow  Tumog?" 

"Well,  you  see  the  affair  did  not  reach  an  actual  attack  on 
me;  there  was  only  the  threat  of  it,  and  this  afternoon  when 
I  came  back  from  the  school  I  saw  Tumog  in  leg  chains  under 
guard  with  the  other  grass  cutters,  working  on  the  streets. 
As  I  passed  him,  he  gave  me  an  ugly  glance  that  frightened 
me — but  doubtless  the  Governor  will  deal  with  him  prudent- 

ly" 

"No  fear;  he  is  sure  to;  and  I  also,  you  can  depend,  will  have 
a  sharp  eye  on  him." 


[205] 


CHAPTER  XLV 
A  PACIFIC  CONQUEST 

A  few  days  actually  sufficed. 

But  since  at  all  tasks  he  undertook  Governor  Morine's  most 
distinguishing  trait  was  thoroughness,  the  process  of  hum 
bling  the  pride  of  the  Datu  Telecoco  was  extended  over  sev 
eral  weeks. 

The  lesson  must  sink  so  deep  that  there  should  remain  no 
chance  of  its  being  forgotten. 

And  throughout  this  period,  for  probably  the  first  and  last 
time  in  his  life,  the  Talker  to  Alligators  and  Turner  of  Him 
self  into  Serpents  profoundly  regretted  the  exuberant  fertil 
ity  of  the  soil  and  the  riotous  plant  growth  of  his  native 
valley. 

At  his  home  among  his  people,  the  miraculously  fast-grow 
ing  of  the  crops  the  generous  black  loam  of  the  valley  pro 
duced,  meant  the  wearying  of  the  backs  and  the  sweating  of 
the  skins  of  his  people  but  spelled  nothing  but  greater  riches 
and  ease  for  the  Talker  to  Alligators. 

But  now,  in  Cotabato  as  prisoner  of  the  'Mergans,  the 

frowth  of  weeds  and  grasses  in  the  town  streets  spelled  for 
im  nothing  but  toil,  sweat  and  shame. 

No  respite  was  he  given. 

From  morning  till  night  the  Turner  of  Himself  into  Ser 
pents  made  one  of  the  chain-gang  constantly  employed  in 
cutting  the  grass  and  cleaning  the  town  streets.  And  natural 
ly  it  proved  to  be  an  occupation  that  served  to  cause  him  to 
shed  his  superfluous  fat,  along  with  the  last  vestiges  of  his 
dignity. 

To  the  Moros  of  Cotabato,  the  bringing  of  him  among  them 
by  the  Governor  occasioned  no  small  measure  of  anxiety. 
Here  among  them  he  was  brought  under  circumstances  cer 
tain  to  excite  his  greatest  anger  and  resentment.  Naturally, 

[207] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

his  hatred  and  conspiring  should  be  against  his  captors,  the 
'Mergans. 

But  if  their  magic  left  them  invulnerable  to  him,  might  he 
not  be  working  off  on  some  of  his  own  people  more  or  less  of 
his  surplus  spleen? 

What  devilment  might  not  this  Talker  to  the  Hungry  Ones 
put  them  up  to?  Whose  blood  might  he  not  suck  when  he 
turned  himself  into  a  murcielago?  Into  whose  heels  might  he 
not  sink  his  venomed  fangs  when  he  turned  himself  into  a 
serpent? 

Nor,  as  the  days  passed  without  any  dire  happenings  of  the 
sort,  was  their  fear  of  him  allayed,  did  their  dread  of  his  super 
natural  powers  lessen. 

But  very  certain  it  nevertheless  early  became  known  to 
Telecoco  himself  that  all  the  weird  magic  that  made  him  so 
dreaded  among  the  Moros,  against  these  'Mergans  was  pow 
erless. 

And  this  conclusion  ceased  to  be  a  secret  of  his  own  mind 
when,  as  shortly  happened,  he  began  begging  cigarettes  and 
betel-nuts  about  the  streets  as  might  and  did  the  meanest 
slaves. 

And  why  not?  For  doubtless  Telecoco  was  convinced  that 
so  cutting  grass  and  sweating  in  the  'Mergan  service  he  must 
finish  his  days.  But  that  the  shrewd  Governor  had  other  plans 
for  him  became  apparent  when,  one  day,  he  had  Telecoco 
brought  before  him  and  said : 

"Well,  old  raider,  are  you  still  believing  you  can  afford  to 
fight  the  'Mergans?" 

And  it  was  with  very  humble  downcast  eyes  and  pitiful 
trembling  of  his  pendulous  underlip  that  Telecoco  answered : 

"No,  no,  Mighty  One.  For,  by  the  Prophet's  beard,  Teleco 
co  has  not  enough  strength  left  to  fight  the  mosquitoes  off 
his  face." 

"But  what  of  your  bitcharis  with  the  alligators?  Why  are 
you  not  playing  murcielago  and  sucking  my  blood,  or  turn 
ing  yourself  into  some  sort  of  wiggler  and  biting  me  with  poi 
soned  fangs?" 

[208] 


A  PACIFIC  CONQUEST 

A  very  sheepish  expression  had  washed  most  of  the  trucu 
lent  cunning  out  of  the  villain's  face  when  Telecoco  answered: 

"By  the  father  of  alligators,  Mighty  One,  it  seems  that  all 
that  is  only  effective  against  my  own  people." 

"To  be  sure,"  the  Governor  answered,  "and  it  is  precisely 
because  I  believe  it  will  still  remain  effective  against  your 
people  that  better  days  are  ahead  for  you  if  you  will  do  pre 
cisely  as  I  tell  you." 

"By  the  Prophet's  beard,  Mighty  One,  after  Allah's  law  and 
will  alone,  next  for  Telecoco  shall  come  yours." 

"Very  well,  then  I  shall  give  you  a  chance  to  prove  it. 

"Tomorrow  I  shall  take  you  to  your  rancheria  and  reinstate 
you  in  all  your  privileges  and  powers  as  Datu.  So  restored  to 
power,  I  shall  not  interfere  with  any  of  your  ancient  laws  or 
tribal  customs,  so  you  keep  order  in  your  district  and  obey 
me.  But  you  must  stop  all  marauding,  whether  by  your  own 
people  or  your  neighbors.  If  I  send  you  word  that  the  people 
of  any  of  your  neighbors  are  vexing  me,  you  will  deal  with 
them.  I  shall  expect  you  to  efface  them  quite  in  your  own 
way  and  shall  not  question  the  means  you  employ  to  remove 
my  vexations.  What  do  you  say,  old  raider?" 

"Mahpia — pia!  Very,  very  good,  O  Mighty  One.  Your  will 
shall  be  Telecoco's  law.  Try  him." 

"I  understand  that  those  who  vex  the  Datu  Telecoco  seldom 
live  long;  is  that  correct?" 

The  ferocity  that  shone  from  the  cruel  old  eyes  and  the  wicked 
smile  that  distorted  the  mouth  were  a  sufficient  answer,  but, 
of  course,  on  such  a  matter  of  pride  the  Turner  of  Himself 
into  Serpents  very  quietly  answered: 

"None  that  vex  Telecoco  lives,  Mighty  One — none  of  his 
own  people." 

The  restoration  of  the  Datu  Telecoco  was  cause  of  no  less 
satisfaction  to  the  Datu  Dikaya  than  to  Telecoco. 

Dikaya  had  suffered  more  heavy  demand  on  his  diplomacy 
and  courage  in  the  new  post  to  which  he  had  been  elevated 
by  the  Governor  than  his  weak  nature  would  have  managed 

[209] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

to  much  longer  stand.  And  glad  was  he  to  return  to  his  very 
peaceful  down-river  rancheria. 

Nor  were  Morine's  theories  and  policy  long  to  lack  a  severe 
test. 

Shortly,  his  spies  brought  Morine  advice  that  Ishmael,  whom 
he  had  elevated  to  the  Datuship  of  Linta's  district,  was  run 
ning  things  with  a  high  hand. 

About  him  he  was  assembling  a  strong  force  of  his  Maratuns 
and  boldly  was  he  boasting  that  no  school  should  be  started 
in  his  territory  or  any  'Mergans  there  establish  themselves. 

From  all  the  other  districts  the  news  was  good.  The  Datus 
were  all  entirely  content  while  let  alone.  Even  the  great  Ali, 
half-brother  to  Linta  and  of  far  more  power  and  influence 
among  his  people,  although  less  aggressively  warlike  than 
Linta,  was  expressing  his  entire  willingness  to  receive  the 
teachers  he  had  been  advised  would  soon  be  sent  into  his 
district. 

But  obviously  if  the  battling  old  raider  Ishmael  was  not 
promptly  suppressed,  he  would  be  certain  to  start  a  flame  of 
revolt  against  the  'Mergan  plans  that  must  soon  sweep  all 
the  neighboring  districts. 

Hence  the  Governor  lost  no  time  in  sending  one  of  his  se 
cret  agents  to  Telecoco,  with  the  very  simple  advice  that  the 
Datu  Ishmael  and  certain  of  the  raiders  among  his  Maratuns, 
each  of  whom  he  named,  were  very  seriously  vexing  him. 
That  was  all. 

But  well  he  knew  it  was  quite  enough — and  also  well  did  he 
realize  that  it  constituted  the  heaviest  possible  test  he  could 
make  of  Telecoco's  readiness  and  ability  to  serve  him. 

Ishmael  and  his  Maratuns  were  the  most  desperate,  bold 
and  bloody  of  all  the  raiders  of  the  valley. 

However,  Morine  felt  that  though  probably  Telecoco  would 
lack  the  courage  to  strike  them  openly,  he  would  be  pretty 
sure  to  reach  them  all  by  one  or  another  line  of  dark  Oriental 
strategy. 

Nor,  as  it  turned  out,  had  Morine  overestimated  Telecoco's 
resource! 

[210] 


A  PACIFIC  CONQUEST 

Very  few  days  elapsed  before  Telecoco  sent  him  word  that 
it  was  his  pleasure  to  advise  the  Mighty  One  that  since  the 
Datu  Ishmael  and  nine  of  his  Maratuns  had  very  suddenly 
sickened  and  died,  it  had  become  unnecessary  to  lead  against 
them  the  force  of  warriors  he  had  been  organizing  to  kill  or 
capture  them. 

Thus,  very  quietly  and  simply,  Fate,  acting  through  some 
secret  emissaries  of  Telecoco,  whether  in  the  form  of  serpents 
or  otherwise,  effectively  pacified,  for  the  present  at  least,  the 
more  turbulent  of  Linta  s  recent  followers. 

So  it  was  with  a  very  great  personal  satisfaction  that  Gover 
nor  Morine  sometime  later  remarked  to  Captain  Tony  Trigg : 

"No  task  in  all  this  world  is  hard  to  do  when  one  knows  the 
material  he  has  to  work  with. 

"The  Commanding  General  distrusted  my  plan  to  hold  the 
Moros  in  check  and  extend  our  schools  without  warfare,  with 
out  putting  a  well-organized  force  into  the  field,  ready  at  all 
times  to  swat  them.  Not  unnaturally,  for  he  is  wholly  igno 
rant  of  the  Moro  character. 

"But  I  know  them — perhaps  it  isn't  too  much  to  say  that  I 
know  them  even  better  than  they  know  themselves." 

"You  sure  do  know  them,  Joe,  as  does  no  other  white  man 
in  the  Island.  Just  how  long  had  you  been  here  on  the  coast 
when  the  General  made  you  Acting  Governor?" 

"Three  years,  Tony,  by  turns  planting  here  on  the  coast 
and  traveling  freely  among  the  Moros  as  a  trader. 

"You  know  they  have  my  sympathy.  It  is  the  old  story  of 
'Give  a  dog  a  bad  name/  from  the  generations  of  their  piracy 
that  left  no  sailing  craft  safe  on  their  seas. 

"Never  did  the  Spaniards  manage  to  do  better  than  to  main 
tain  an  insecure  foothold  within  their  fortifications  at  a  few 
points  along  the  coast. 

"And  yet  what  the  local  government  don't  understand,  what 
I've  been  unable  to  make  them  appreciate  and  believe,  is  that 
the  Moros  were  already  conquered,  absolutely  conquered, 
long  before,  many,  many  years  before  our  first  expedition 
landed  in  Mindanao." 

[211] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"Conquered?  These  Moros  conquered  before  we  came? 
What  the  devil  do  you  mean,  Joe?  Why  you  just  admitted 
that  the  Spaniards  were  powerless  against  them." 

"True  again,  Tony,  and  never  in  another  thousand  years 
would  the  Spaniards  have  managed  to  conquer  them,  for 
their  coming  and  campaigning  had  for  its  only  purpose  the 
whipping  them  into  line  as  dependable  tribute  payers." 

"But  how  can  you  say  they  were  conquered  then?" 

"Their  conquest,  Tony,  had  been  absolutely  pacific,  but 
nevertheless  I  can  demonstrate  to  you  it  was  a  completely 
effective  conquest. 

"They  were  conquered,  my  boy,  by  the  Chinese  traders, 
who  many  years  before  began  sowing  broadcast  among  them 
the  germs  of  the  trading  instinct.  Out  of  the  growth  of  this 
trading  instinct,  as  always  where  trade  is  extended  among 
warlike  peoples,  there  arose  and  spread  among  the  Moros  an 
appreciation  of  the  far  larger  ease  and  prosperity  any  people 
may  gain  from  peace  than  from  war. 

"The  more  seductive  luxuries  the  Chinese  brought  them, 
the  more  the  lands  planted  and  tilled  and  the  fewer  the  raid 
ers  living  off  spoils  robbed  from  their  neighbors. 

"The  Spaniards  never  knew  it  any  more  than  our  Govern 
ment  has  come  to  learn  it;  but  it  is  the  truth  that  the  Moros 
had  already  become  a  peace-loving  and  industrial  people  long 
before  we  came  among  them." 

"But  how  the  devil  did  you  learn  that?" 

"I  learned  that,  Tony,  by  personal  observation  and  actual 
experience.  With  none  but  native  burden-bearers,  I  have  for 
three  years  ranged  the  bush  and  hills,  never  accompanied  by 
a  single  armed  follower,  received  everywhere  with  kindness 
and  finding  nowhere  anything  but  peace  and  industry,  with 
the  exception  of  their  slave-raiding  of  the  neighboring  wild 
tribes. 

"Of  course,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  before  going  among 
them  I  had  studied  hard  until  I  had  gotten  a  good  working 
knowledge  of  the  Moro  language  and  had  made  myself  fa 
miliar  with  the  Koran  and  the  Luwaren. 

[212] 


A  PACIFIC  CONQUEST 

"Everywhere  I  went  I  found  the  Chinese;  and  I  may  say 
now,  after  five  years  in  Mindanao,  I  have  not  heard  of  a  sin 
gle  instance  of  the  injury  or  robbery  of  a  Chino  by  a  Moro." 

"That  sounds  right,  Joe;  evidently  the  Chinese  are  safe 
among  them,  but  it  seems  to  me  you  took  crazy  chances  going 
among  them  alone." 

"Nonsense;  so  anybody  could  have  gone  or  can  go  now,  and 
in  any  numbers,  so  they  do  not  outrage  Moro  religion  or  cus 
tom/' 

"Well,  Joe,"  spoke  Captain  Tony  Trigg,  with  a  grimace  of  dis 
appointment,  "if  you're  right,  as  I  am  bound  to  believe  you 
are,  and  can  manage  to  continue  bagging  and  training  Datus 
to  do  your  policing,  as  you  bagged  and  trained  Telecoco,  it 
looks  like  pretty  dull  days  ahead  for  the  constabulary  and  the 
army." 

"It  certainly  should  mean  dull  days  for  both  organizations 
— but  it  won't.  No  such  good  luck.  Neither  by  experience  of 
civil  administration  nor  by  knowledge  of  Moro  character  are 
the  army  men  who  make  up  the  majority  of  our  local  Govern 
ment  fitted  for  this  job,  and  I  just  feel  it  that  one  day  some 
order  or  orders  will  be  issued  that  will  plunge  us  into  warfare 
and  deluge  the  Island  with  blood." 

"Ho,  ho,"  shouted  Tony  jumping  up  and  capering  about 
the  room,  "then  will  come  the  chance  to  work  the  cramps  out 
of  my  joints  and  wear  the  rust  off  my  arms." 

"Yes,  Tony,  your  chance;  but  if  I'm  not  overvaluing  you, 
you  will  not  be  long  sickening  of  your  work." 


[213] 


CHAPTER  XLVI 
WILD  TOSSING  WAVES  OF  LOVE 

It  was  one  of  those  velvet-blue  Mindanao  nights,  the  air 
heavy  with  intoxicating  tropical  fragrance  that  would  suf 
fice  to  stir  to  violent  indiscretion  the  blood  of  even  the  most 
phlegmatic  lover. 

They  had  gone  out  for  a  stroll,  Ruth  and  Tony. 

They  were  alone — or  so  at  least  they  believed  themselves — 
standing  within  the  shadows  of  the  platanos,  where  Tony  had 
so  longed  to  have  her  beside  him,  looking  out  into  those  pearl- 
grey  mists  of  the  river  within  whose  seclusion  he  had  so 
longed  to  drift  and  drift  and  drift  with  her  in  a  vinta. 

For  some  time  they  stood  within  the  shadows  of  the  plata 
nos,  both  silent,  Ruth  thinking  of  God  knows  what,  Tony 
aflame  of  his  love  for  this  strangely  cold  lady  of  the  snows, 
still  clinging,  loverlike,  to  the  hope  that  one  day  she  would 
warm  to  him  as  he  to  her. 

How  such  things  happen  it  is  given  to  no  one  to  know,  un 
less  perchance  to  that  cunning  Cupid  from  whom  probably 
no  lover  has  yet  managed  to  conceal  any  of  his  most  secret 
yearnings. 

Perhaps  it  was  just  one  of  those  rude  impulses  for  which 
Ruth  had  chided  him,  or  perhaps  the  rash  act  that  was  to 
serve  to  imperil  his  sweetheart  had  its  birth  in  the  hope  that 
it  might  serve  to  melt  her  frigid  mood. 

Whatever  the  inspiration  of  the  act,  it  was  without  a  word 
or  other  hint  of  his  purpose  that  Tony  suddenly  seized  Ruth, 
crushed  her  to  his  breast,  passionately  kissed  her  lips,  her 
eyes,  her  forehead,  and  buried  his  face  in  the  yellow  waves  of 
her  hair. 

Ah!  at  last! 

So  in  those  yellow  waves  happily  would  he  drown! 

But  that  was  not  to  be — at  least  not  in  those  particular 
waves. 

[215] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

For  instantly  Ruth  recovered  from  the  shock  of  her  sur 
prise;  with  asperity  almost  bordering  on  disgust,  she  sharply 
rebuked  him: 

"Tony,  that  will  do! 

"Never  be  such  an  idiot  again  if  you  expect  to  hold  my  re 
spect — and  regard! 

"Your  notion  of  love  is  too  crude,  too  raw,  too  like  the  law 
less  loves  of  Bacchanalians. 

"If  we're  to  get  on,  you  must  treat  me  with  the  respectful 
reserve  that  alone  should  characterize  the  relations  of  ra 
tional  beings  who  are  drawn  to  each  other  by  mutual  intellec 
tual  interests." 

Poor  Tony! 

For  his  realization  had  no  longer  endured  than  the  mere 
wretched  little  second  that  suffices  to  begin  and  end  even  the 
longest  of  our  dreams. 

Idiot!  Just  that  one  word  served  to  drop  his  temperature 
and  to  make  him  drop  Ruth  and  step  back. 

More  to  himself  than  to  her  Tony  almost  whispered,  "I  just 
simply  don't  understand.  God  knows  I  should  be  sorry  to  be 
rude,  last  of  all  women  in  the  world  to  Ruth.  But  in  the  name 
of  all  wildly  throbbing  hearts  and  hammering  pulses,  how 
could  I  help  it?" 

"I  dare  say  not,  Tony.  It  is  just  you.  What  you  love  you 
must  crush  and  smother  in  silly  kisses  as  did  drunken  Bac 
chanals.  And  it  is  all  such  a  mystery  to  me  when  in  other 
ways  you  are  ever  so  infinitely  tender  and  considerate." 

And  presently  while  Tony  still  stood  silent,  oppressed,  puz 
zling,  Ruth  added,  "Pm  rather  feeling  the  chill  of  the  river 
mists;  we  will  return  to  quarters,  if  you  don't  mind." 

And  as  they  turned  and  strolled  away,  a  dusky  figure  that 
throughout  the  incident  had  been  lurking  a  few  feet  from 
them,  deeper  within  the  shadows  of  the  platanos,  sank  to  the 
ground  digging  nails  into  its  palms,  grinding  its  teeth  and 
rocking  like  one  suffering  great  pain. 

Directly  they  reached  her  quarters,  Tony  bade  Ruth  good 
night — and  left  her. 


WILD  TOSSING  WAVES  OF  LOVE 

Whatever  else  remained  to  do? 

For  any  but  the  maddest  lover's  love,  the  incident  within 
the  shadow  of  the  platanos  had  been  enough  to  completely 
kill  it. 

But  if  love  in  general  is  blind,  such  utterly  mad  love  as  Tony's 
is  senseless. 

He  was  not  so  much  precisely  hurt  as  startled  and  more  pro 
foundly  puzzled. 

Certainly  Ruth  was  more  attached  to  him  than  to  any  other 
living  creature.  That  was  always  cropping  out  in  their  con 
versations,  and  yet  a  marble  statue  could  not  be  less  respon 
sive  to  his  tenderness. 

Where,  our  blind  and  senseless  lover  questioned,  are  her  im 
pulses? 

Ignoring  the  patent  fact  that  the  girl  he  idolized  was  as  pa 
thetically  passionless  as  any  idol  hewn  from  stone. 

He  must  think — must  try  to  think. 

So  on  and  on  he  strolled  alone. 

Whither?  He  did  not  care,  nor  did  he  realize  until  he  found 
himself  within  the  rank  growths  that  now  are  the  only  garri 
son  of  the  old  stone  fort  on  Tantuan  Hill. 

But  alone? 

No;  he  had  not  come  alone. 

Silent  as  a  haunting  shade,  step  by  step  he  had  been  closely 
followed. 

But  that  he  did  not  know. 

For  some  time  poor  tortured  Tony  stood  looking  down — 
upon  the  one  lighted  window  of  Cotabato  that  held  interest 
for  him. 

The  soft  night  breeze  that  stirred  his  auburn  curls  cooled 
his  brow  and  slowed  his  pulses,  until  at  length  he  began  ac 
tually  to  think. 

How  could  he  hope  that  poor  parody  of  love  that  was  all  the 
sentiment  he  had  aroused  in  Ruth  could  suffice  him? 

Certainly  it  could  not. 

He  must  have  great,  hot,  high-swelling,  wild-tossing  waves 
of  love  that  would  eagerly  enfold  him  when  into  them  he 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

plunged,  wild  waves  of  love  that  might  strangle  him  but  that 
would  never  give  him  up. 

They  must  separate,  Ruth  and  he. 

That  should  not  be  difficult,  so  he  could  manage  to  tear  her 
from  his  heart,  for  plainly  he  had  offended  her.  Too  rudely 
had  he  stirred  the  lifeless  pool  of  placidity  in  which  she  dwelt. 

To  forget  her;  that  was  the  trouble. 

Ha!  Tap>s  were  sounding,  and  it's  time  he,  too,  should  be 
seeking  his  quarters. 

But  no  more  had  he  turned  than  from  the  shadows  out  upon 
him  headlong  sprang  a  dusky  figure! 

At  his  throat  it  leaped,  as  if  to  throttle  him ! 

So  suddenly  was  it  upon  him,  that  before  the  ready  bush- 
fighter  had  time  to  so  much  as  lift  his  hands,  or  even  to  think, 
sinewy  arms  were  fiercely  clasped  around  his  neck,  for  a  mo 
ment  nigh  strangling  him,  and  tightly  interlocked  with  his 
were  powerful  limbs  that  swayed  and  nearly  threw  him. 

Through  such  instants  one  lives  years  and  years,  and  reviews 
his  life. 

So  Captain  Tony  Trigg  relived  the  years  and  reviewed  his  life, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  commending  his  soul  to  God,  when, 
instead  of  the  kris  stab  he  believed  inevitable,  hot  lips  were 
by  turns  furiously  pressing  his  and  sobbing  his  name  in  the 
low,  melodious  tones  he  knew  so  well. 

Absorbed  in  Ruth,  faithful  to  his  love  for  her  as  he  had  been,  de 
spite  the  compelling  appeal  of  what  he  well  knew  to  be  Esa's 
mad  love  for  him,  at  first  he  roughly  seized  her  by  the  shoul 
ders  and  sought  to  push  her  from  him.  But  the  harder  he 
strove  to  free  himself,  the  tighter  she  clung. 

So  they  struggled  and  swayed,  locked  together  as  one  of 
body  as  completely  as  both  were  one  of  desire. 

But  finally  he  found  voice. 

"Tu  estas  /oca,  gordita,  libreme!"  "Thou  art  mad,  little  plump 
one;  free  me!"  he  cried. 

"Never;  never  will  Esa  free  you,  Son  of  Fire.  Esa  wants 
you — now,  always." 


WILD  TOSSING  WAVES  OF  LOVE 

And  followed  another  storm  of  kisses  that  nearly  smothered 
him. 

"But  stop;  you  are  mad,"  feebly  ordered  Tony,  as  soon  as 
he  could  get  his  breath. 

"Yes,  Son  of  Fire;  and  Esa  will  stay  mad  until  she  has  you. 
That  white  woman  shall  not  have  you.  She  does  not  want 
you  as  Esa  does.  Esa  saved  you.  You  are  hers.  Never  'til 
you  kill  Esa  shall  you  leave  her." 

"But — but,  little  one — " 

"No;  never  shall  the  white  woman  get  you,"  Esa  interrupt 
ed;  "she  cannot  do  for  you  what  Esa  can.  She?  Ha!  She  is 
cold  as  the  hill  pools  of  mornings,  while  Esa  burns,  and  burns 
and  burns  as  does  the  mid-day  sun." 

And  since  we  already  have  his  own  word  that  he  was  of  the 
earth,  earthy,  little  the  wonder  that  before  he  knew  it  Tony's 
powerful  arms  were  constraining  more  fiercely  than  they  had 
repulsed  her. 


[219] 


CHAPTER  XLVII 
EXTRAVAGANT  ALTRUISM 

When  the  bugles  sounded  reveille  the  morning  after  Esa  had 
leaped  upon  him  out  of  the  shadows  of  the  old  stone  fort  on 
Tantuan  Hill,  Captain  Tony  Trigg  was  wide  awake. 

Indeed  he  had  not  closed  his  eyes  throughout  the  night. 

The  crisis  of  his  life  was  come.  That  he  well  knew.  Joe  had 
predicted  no  less  than  what  had  happened,  had  warned  him 
and  advised  him. 

But  who  may  venture  to  advise  another? 

AH  night  the  old  Adam  in  him  had  been  calling. 

The  voice  of  primitive  man  had  been  ringing  in  his  ears. 

"What  one  wants,  one  takes!" 

To  be  sure  he  was  not  properly  a  primitive  man,  nor  by  the 
code  of  his  kind  might  he  continue  indulging  himself  in  prim 
itive  privileges. 

But  what's  a  code  that  forbids  the  taking  of  what  one  wants 
— taking  it  all? 

To  hell  with  it. 

Esa! 

What  man  in  all  the  world  could  find  the  strength  to  repulse 
such  a  love  as  hers? 

Little  savage! 

Yes,  to  be  sure. 

But  good  God  what  a  woman ! 

Where  in  the  ranks  of  civilization,  formalized  by  custom, 
timid  of  the  protection  under  which  they  dwell,  impoverished 
of  big  masterful  emotions  by  the  conventions  of  their  en 
vironment,  may  one  find  a  girl  with  a  soul  so  great,  a  love  so 
big,  a  heart  so  bold  as  hers? 

But  a  savage! 

Mate  with  her? 

How  the  folks  at  home  would  despise  him! 

[221  ] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Yes,  of  course,  they'd  be  bound  to — for  they  don't  know 
Esa. 

Ha!  but  why  should  he  consider  them?  Each  must  work 
out  the  problem  of  life's  best  happiness  for  himself. 

To  the  devil  with  them. 

Why  condemn  himself  to  the  passionless  pallidity  of  their 
lives  from  fear  of  their  opinion? 

They  need  not  pride  themselves  of  their  superior  virtues. 
Once,  not  so  very,  very  many  generations  ago,  their  own  for 
bears,  men  and  women  alike,  loved  and  lusted  humanly, 
passionately,  as  does  Esa,  and — yes,  as  do  Esa  and  he. 

Ha!  That  was  back  in  the  manly  days  when  men  fought 
and  took  by  force  of  their  own  strong  arms  the  things  that 
now  they  win  by  superior  deceit. 

Theirs  was  manly  battling,  when  each  risked  his  life  for 
what  he  wanted,  while  now  the  craft  and  hypocrisy  of  lying 
tongues  buy  the  loot  and  women  then  won  by  flashing  blades. 

Ah,  that  splendid  elder  world,  wherein  one  fought  when  he 
hated  and  loved  where  he  would! 

Had  he  only  lived  then!  How  often  had  he  dreamed  it! 

But  dreams,  all  dreams;  and  dreams  are  never  realized. 

Never  realized? 

Nonsense;  why  by  Heaven,  here  was  his  realization,  the 
realization  of  his  dearest  dreams. 

Out  here  on  the  edge  of  the  world,  the  very  outer  edge  of  his 
world,  here  was  his  realization — here  with  Esa. 

But  Tony  must  not  deceive  himself. 

So  mated,  that  would  be  his  end,  the  end  of  all  close  sym 
pathies  and  associations  with  his  kind. 

One  step,  just  one  step  forward  and  he  could  never  get  back. 

Full  well  he  knew  the  law  of  life  that  no  man  may  mate  with 
any  woman  materially  beneath  him  mentally  or  morally  who 
is  not  inevitably  dragged  down  to  her  level. 

But  dragged  down? 

Nothing  of  the  sort. 

Mating  with  Esa?  Why,  that  would  elevate  him  to  the 
splendid  heights  of  her  own  great  love. 

[222  ] 


EXTRAVAGANT  ALTRUISM 

And  whatever  the  devil  else  but  love  matters,  anyway? 

And  so  on  and  on  mused  Captain  Tony  Trigg's  badly  vexed 
mind  until  Guard  Mount  sounded,  and  he  hurried  across  to 
headquarters — to  find  Governor  Morine  absorbed  in  some 
dispatches  he  had  just  received  and  bitterly  cursing  under 
his  breath. 

Dropping  into  a  chair  near  the  Governor's  desk  he  asked : 

"Wnat's  up,  Joe;  what's  biting  you?  You  look  like  you 
wanted  to  hit  the  war-path,  like  somebody's  scalp  would  be 
in  danger  if  you  get  to  him." 

"By  God,  it's  come,  that's  all." 

"Well,  what's  come?  I'm  sure  I've  heard  of  no  troubles  on 
the  road  our  way  to  make  you  look  so  warlike." 

"Why,  Tony,  the  Government  has  just  passed  an  act  that, 
if  literally  carried  out,  if  not  rescinded  or  pigeonholed,  means 
the  virtual  extermination  of  this  Moro  race. 

"You  know  that  since  the  first  military  head  of  this  district 
arrived  here  we  have  been  assuring  these  Moros  that  they 
should  not  be  interfered  with  in  the  practice  of  any  of  their 
ancient  laws  or  customs.  For  that  they  have  our  word." 

"But,  whatever  is  this  bomb  of  an  act,  Joe?" 

"It's  a  law  which  prohibits  slave-hunting  and  slave-owning, 
and  fixes  a  penalty  on  each  offence  of  ten  thousand  pesos  or 
twenty  years  in  jail,  or  both  fine  and  imprisonment,  at  the 
discretion  of  the  courts." 

"Ho,  ho!  That  means  war,  war  that  can't  end  until  long 
after  we're  gone,  Joe." 

"It  certainly  does,  Tony,  but  it's  a  war  in  which  I  shall  take 
no  part. 

"For  much  as  the  more  humane  of  the  officers  of  the  war  de 
partment  may  regret  it,  it  means  a  war  more  unequal  and 
cruel  than  that  which  practically  wiped  out  the  red  race  in 
North  America. 

"It  is  all  too  shockingly  bad.  The  Government  just  don't 
seem  to  understand  that  slavery  and  polygamy  alike  are  ex 
plicitly  authorized  by  the  Koran,  the  precepts  of  which  have 
been  the  law  of  these  people  for  so  many  generations. 

[223] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"Why  look  at  the  Datu  Ali,  the  half-brother  of  Linta,  justly 
the  most  esteemed  of  all  the  Datus !  It  was  only  a  few  weeks 
ago  that  I  stayed  several  days  with  him  at  his  rancheria. 

"To  test  his  temper  I  plainly  asked  him  what  he  would  do 
if  our  authorities  decreed  the  freeing  of  his  slaves. 

"Very  simply  the  Datu  AH  answered  me: 

'"My  friend,  you  know  that  my  slaves  are  my  only  wealth, 
my  only  medium  of  exchange.  Take  them  from  me,  and  I 
must  become  my  own  hewer  of  wood  and  drawer  of  water !' 

"But  what  would  you  do  if  such  an  order  were  issued? 
Would  you  fight? 

"'No/  Ali  answered.  'Never  would  Ali  attack  the  'Mer- 
gans.  He  would  gather  his  people,  abandon  his  rancheria 
and  plantations  and  withdraw  into  the  wilderness.' 

"An,  I  see,"  I  answered,  "and  if  Ali  were  pursued  and  there 
attacked,  there  all  would  die  rather  than  surrender,  I  presume? 
"My  friend  is  quite  right,'  quietly  answered  Ali.  'Let  it  not 
come  to  that;  but  if  it  must  so  come  better  to  die  faithful  to 
the  Prophet  than  to  permit  ourselves  to  be  stripped  of  aught 
the  Koran  provides  we  may  have.' 

"One  need  not  be  a  great  student  of  history  to  realize  what 
that  means,  need  he,  Tony?" 

"Just  war,  Joe,  war  till  the  Moros  are  all  dead." 

"Quite  so.  And  look  at  the  outrageous  impolicy  and  inhu 
manity  of  it. 

"Here  in  this  district,  and  chiefly  in  the  valley,  are  sixty 
thousand  Moros. 

"The  mass  of  them  are  peaceful  and  industrious. 

"Among  them,  as  I  have  told  you,  I  have  traveled  freely 
and  been  kindly  received. 

"AH  they  ask  is  to  be  left  in  peace,  to  live  out  their  lives  in 
accordance  with  the  lights  of  the  religion  of  their  fathers. 

"Thus,  put  forward  whatever  hypocritical  apology  for  an 
excuse  one  may,  this  war  with  the  Moros  will  be  in  its  essen 
tial  essence  a  religious  war,  a  renewal  of  the  war  The  Cross 
has  seldom  long  spared  The  Crescent. 

"This  is  a  profoundly  grave  situation,  my  boy. 

[224] 


EXTRAVAGANT  ALTRUISM 

"This  new  Act  inevitably  decrees  the  outlawing  and  then 
the  ultimate  destruction  of  a  race,  that,  while  regarded  as 
savages  by  our  folks  at  home,  owns  a  religion  which  has  done 
more  for  them  than  any  of  the  Christian  creeds  have  done 
for  their  exemplars. 

"How  more?  In  that,  broadly  throughout  the  world,  the 
faithful  to  Islam,  and  most  are  faithful  who  even  pretend  al 
legiance  to  the  Prophet,  never  use  intoxicants  in  any  form, 
and  hence  are  wholly  free  from  the  vice  of  drunkenness  that 
is  one  of  the  greatest  curses  of  Christendom,  and,  further,  in 
that  for  the  faithful  death  holds  no  terrors,  whereas  few  in 
deed  are  the  Christians  who  do  not  confront  their  end  with 
craven  hearts. 

"Again,  I  would  repeat,  it  is  the  old  story  'Give  a  dog  a  bad 
name/ 

"And  yet  what  General  Brisbane  wrote  of  the  Sioux  and 
Cheyenne  Indians  is  also  literal  truth  of  the  Moros — 

"That  the  Indians  do  not  make  war  until  pressed,  you  as  a 
resident  of  the  Western  Plains  since  1870  must  admit/ 

"At  the  first  attempt  to.  enforce  this  Act,  instantly  very 
many  of  the  wide  fields  of  this  rich  valley  will  be  left  to  go 
fallow.  Clan  by  clan,  large  bodies  of  the  Moros  will  retire  into 
the  jungle,  there  to  starve  and  suffer  as  harried  savages. 

"Thus  this  Act  outlaws  the  race,  for  even  though  unpur- 
sued  by  us,  no  means  of  subsistence  remains  for  them  but 
raiding  and  plundering. 

"It  is  the  end  of  all  my  hopes  of  the  rapid  and  peaceful  de 
velopment  of  this  enormously  rich  Island. 

"And  I'm  thinking  shortly  Til  be  leaving.  Years  must 
elapse,  many  years,  before  there  is  any  chance  of  the  indus 
trial  development  of  the  Moro  Provinces. 

"Not  for  generations  will  the  Filipino  race  become  as  in 
dustrious,  efficient  soil  tillers  as  are  now  the  Moros.  And  yet 
our  home  laws  and  the  weight  of  home  sentiment  that  in 
spired  them  will  always  preclude  employment  of  contract 
labor. 

"And  thus,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  the  occupation  by  the  United 

[225] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

States  of  the  Philippine  Islands,  of  Luzon  as  well  as  of  the 
Moro  Provinces,  must  remain  indefinitely  an  enormously 
extravagant  piece  of  altruism. 

"It's  all  too  bad,  too  bad,  too  bad." 

And  as,  after  leaving  headquarters,  Captain  Tony  Trigg 
marched  across  to  the  barracks  of  his  little  brown  terriers,  he 
wearily  murmured  to  himself: 

"And  no  less  an  extravagant  piece  of  altruism  has  been  my 
love  and  devotion  to  Ruth,  I'm  fearing,  than  is  American  in 
tervention  in  these  Islands!" 


[  226 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 
LOVE  DIES  HARD 

All  was  excitement  and  activity  in  Cotabato. 

Never  before  had  the  drowsy  monotony  of  its  routine  been 
so  rudely  disturbed. 

AH  greatly  to  the  delight  of  the  eager  Chino  traders,  for  to 
them  it  meant  increased  business  profits. 

Heavy  reinforcements  were  coming  in,  regulars,  constabu 
lary  and  scouts. 

The  rebellious  Moros  who  had  retired  to  the  hill  jungles  were 
to  be  disciplined. 

It  was  Captain  Tony  Trigg's  last  night  at  the  post,  for  he 
was  under  orders  to  lead  his  company  of  little  brown  terriers 
against  the  Datu  Linta's  Maratuns  and  other  clan-folk  who 
had  stampeded  into  the  hill  country  lying  between  Mt.  Apo 
and  Davao  Bay  directly  after  the  death  of  Datu  Ali. 

The  following  night  he  was  to  embark  his  company  to  take 
the  field,  and  now  he  was  come  to  Ruth's  quarters  to  advise 
her  of  his  departure. 

Nor  was  that  all. 

Love  dies  hard,  none  so  hard  as  that  of  a  really  strong  man. 
And  Tony  was  strong. 

Convinced,  as  he  regarded  himself,  that  his  affection  for 
Ruth  Snell  must  continue  and  end  the  resultless  experiment 
in  altruism  it  had  so  far  remained,  nevertheless  deep  down 
in  his  heart  lurked  the  hope  that  his  announcement  of  his  de 
parture  on  an  expedition  of  obviously  no  small  bodily  peril 
might  serve  to  draw  from  her  some  sign  or  expression  of  the 
tenderness  he  craved. 

Might  not  his  departure  efface  the  resentment  of  his  em 
braces  and  kisses  she  plainly  showed  and  expressed  the  night 
they  stood  in  the  shadows  of  the  platanos? 

Anyway,  he  dared  to  hope  so. 

[227] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

But  little  did  he  know  the  uncompromising,  unyielding  will 
of  the  daughter  of  James  Snell. 

With  daughter,  as  with  father,  a  decision  once  formed  was 
final.  Fail  in  whatever  it  should,  hurt  how  and  whomsoever 
it  might,  that  did  not  matter.  A  decision  reversed  is  no  de 
cision  at  all. 

Out  of  unalterable  decisions,  very  definite  plans  are  soon 
vigorously  sprouting. 

And  how  unfortunate  it  is  that  never  can  we  know  how  our 
plans  may  work  out  until,  usually,  it  is  too  late  to  escape  any 
of  the  disastrous  consequences  they  may  occasion. 

After  releasing  the  cold,  limp  fingers  Ruth  had  extended 
to  him,  and  dropping  into  a  chair  beside  her,  Tony  began 
warmly : 

"Seems  an  age,  dear,  since  I've  seen  you,  except  at  a  distance, 
while  on  your  way  to  school/' 

"An  age,  Captain?"  Ruth  replied,  with  a  few  degrees  of 
more  acute  chill  in  her  tones  than  usual.  "How  perfectly  ab 
surd,  when  it's  only  a  little  matter  of  two  or  more  days  since 
— since  the  regretful  evening  when  you  made  such  a  violent 
demonstration  of — well  of  animalism." 

"But,  good  God,  Ruth,  dear,  surely  you  cannot  designate 
as  'animalism'  the  embraces  and  kisses  a  lover  delights  to 
bestow  upon  the  woman  he  adores! 

"Kisses  and  embraces!  Ah,  Ruth,  dear,  it  seems  to  me  it  is 
such  caresses  that  alone  are  all-sufficing;  who  has  them,  lacks 
nothing,  wants  nothing — but  more  caresses;  who  dies  a 
stranger  to  them,  has  not  lived." 

"For  such  caresses,  where  they  are  really  tender  and  be 
stowed  with  self-control  and  decorum,  I  suppose  there  may 
be  some  apology — notwithstanding  the  stupidity  of  it  and 
the  very  positive  danger  that  the  kisses  may  convey  a  dis 
ease  from  one  to  the  other.  But  yours,  Captain,  are  out  of  a 
measure  of  passion  which  makes  you  immoderate,  violent, 
furious,  ignoring  or  wholly  blind  to  the  intellectual,  indeed  I 
may  say  the  almost  spiritual  bond,  that  should  be  the  chief 
motive  in  the  matings  of  men  and  women." 

[228] 


LOVE  DIES  HARD 

"There  you  are  again,  Ruth,  withdrawn  entirely  outside  of 
my  mental  atmosphere.  Your  words  are  plain  enough,  and 
your  tones  convey  to  me  the  conviction  that  you  mean  pre 
cisely  what  you  say.  Only  to  me  it  is  impossible  to  think  in 
such  terms. 

"Of  course,  the  tendency  of  the  higher  education  and  thought 
of  modern  civilization  is  toward  the  suppression  of  the  nor 
mal  emotions  and  impulses  bred  into  us  out  of  Mother  Na 
ture,  but  still  I'm  thinking  incalculable  generations  must 
elapse  before — well,  before  human  blood  ceases  to  energize 
any  but  purely  mental  human  activities." 

"You  don't  surprise  me,  Captain.  It  is  probably  even  more 
difficult  for  you  to  appreciate  and  concur  in  my  views  than 
for  me  to  understand  and  agree  with  yours.  You — " 

"Pardon  the  interruption,  Ruth,  but  you  are  entirely  right. 
And  it  is  the  growing  realization  that  it  is  as  wholly  impossible 
for  me  to  attain  your  ideals  as  for  your  ideals  to  content  mine 
that  has  been  breaking  my  heart. 

"I  have  been  adoring  you  from  the  first  day  we  met.  Sweet 
and  tender  were  the  home  relations  of  my  youth.  At  home, 
an  indulgent  father  and  a  passionately  affectionate  mother 
so  strongly  inoculated  me  with  the  love  of  Love,  that  through 
out  the  many  years  rude  campaigning  and  isolated  mess  life 
have  deprived  me  of  it,  I  have  actually  suffered — suffered 
the  lack  of  an  object  on  which  to  pour  out  my  affections. 

"The  accumulation  was  large  enough  it  seemed  to  me  to 
suffice  any  woman  who  should  not  find  my  sort  of  a  man  ob 
jectionable  to  her. 

"And  so,  I  have  now  long  been  hoping,  you  might  find  my 
love  to  suffice  you  and  to  win  from  you  the  love  I  must  needs 
have  in  return  to  leave  us  fairly  quits — for  even  love  is  ever 
a  greedy  bargainer  and  ill  content  to  receive  less  than  it 
gives." 

"True,  Captain,  and  I  take  it  you  would  agree  that  your 
kind  of  love  could  never  be  content  except  when  returned  in 
kind." 

"Quite  so — as,  obviously,  never  could  yours,  Ruth.  But 

[229] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

please  don't  mistake  my  phrases  for  bitterness.  I  am  too 
much  overwhelmed  with  tne  sense  of  my  loss  for  that.  Just 
how  dear  your  memory  must  ever  remain  to  me  I  cannot  pre 
tend  to  try  to  tell  you,  and — and  God  grant  you  may  find  a 
man  at  least  more  nearly  approaching  your  ideals  than  I  do. 
What  a  downright  providence  for  both  of  us  that  I  am  order 
ed  to  take  the  field  just  now,  isn't  it?" 

"No,  Captain,  for  it  takes  you  into  great  danger,  I  fear,  and 
your  marching  orders  are  not  necessary  to  procure  the  sepa 
ration  that  is  best  for  both  of  us.  The  fact  is,  after  mature 
reflection  for  two  days,  I  have  decided  to  resign  and  return 
home  on  the  next  transport." 

"Really!  You  don't  mean  it!" 

"Yes;  the  fact  is,  I  might  have  so  resigned  earlier  but  for 
our — but  for  my  regard  for  you  and  my  feeling  that  my  leav 
ing  would  distress  you.  You  know  I'm  devoted  to  my  work, 
but  work  that  shows  no  results,  no  progress,  soon  becomes 
hateful.  And  upon  my  word  the  only  one  of  my  pupils  I  can 
see  any  hope  of  improving  and  uplifting  as  materially  as  I 
had  hoped  is  this  pagan  girl,  Esa,  whom  I  have  adopted." 

"Yes,  Esa  is  indeed  very  bright,"  Tony  agreed. 

"She  certainly  is,  and  I  intend  telling  her  this  evening  that 
I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  take  her  home  with  me,  and 
there  to  give  her  every  advantage  and  opportunity  within 
my  power." 

"Heavens,  Ruth,"  the  surprised  Tony  stammered,  "you 
mean  you  are  going  to  make  it  an  actual  adoption,  and  carry 
her  away  with  you,  take  her  into  your  family?" 

"Yes,  that's  precisely  what  I  have  intended  from  the  be 
ginning,  so  she  should  seem  to  continue  to  deserve  it  up  to 
the  time  of  my  leaving." 

"Well,  I  really  hope  you'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  Tony 
vigorously  protested.  "You'll  regret  it  as  sure  as  fate.  Re 
member,  from  the  local  point  of  view  Esa  is  no  more  a  child. 
She's  a  woman  grown,  as  matured  of  mind,  according  to  her 
lights,  as  of  body.  The  savage  instincts  bred  into  her  by  na 
ture  are  now  therein  fixed  by  habit.  Remember  that.  Fancy 

[230] 


LOVE  DIES  HARD 

the  awful  responsibility  you'd  assume  by  taking  her,  a  wild 
creature  it  probably  will  never  be  safe  for  anyone  to  try  to 
constrain.  Never  would  she  herself  be  happy  or  even  con 
tent  under  the  restraints  of  civilization,  nor  do  I  see  how  she 
could  fail  to  be  anything  but  an  anxiety  and  perhaps  a  grief 
to  you." 

Tony  had  been  so  very  earnest  in  his  apparent  concern  for 
her  that  it  was  in  a  softened  tone  Ruth  replied : 

"I  admit  there  is  very  much  truth  in  what  you  say,  Tony, 
but  my  tasks  have  never  been  so  easy  that  Pm  afraid  of  big 
and  difficult  ones.  You  may  be  sure  I  had  not  begun  the  ex 
periment  except  with  the  purpose  to  carry  it  through,  and  I 
certainly  shall  not  abandon  it  unless  I  reach  a  point  where  I 
find  I  can  no  longer  control  her." 

"Well,  of  course  it  is  your  affair,  Ruth,  and  if  Esa  consents 
to  go  I  suppose  there's  nothing  more  to  say  about  it." 

"Consents!  Why,  I'm  not  intending  to  ask  her  consent,  for 
I  suppose  in  her  ignorance  and  blindness  the  little  pagan 
would  prefer  to  stay  here.  I  shall  just  take  her  with  me,  in  the 
conviction  that  in  time  she  will  come  to  understand  and  ap 
preciate  what  I'm  doing  for  her  and  to  be  glad  of  the  advan 
tage  and  opportunity  given  her." 

"Well,  really  that  does  not  leave  me  much  more  to  say, 
Ruth,  except  to  wish  you  the  best  possible  luck  in  this  serious 
experiment — and  a  large  measure  of  the  happiness  I  had 
hoped  to  be  privileged  to  bring  you." 

And,  presently,  after  Ruth  had  sat  for  some  moments  com 
pletely  absorbed  in  her  thoughts,  Tony  rose  and  taking  her 
hand,  added: 

"Good  night,  Ruth — and  I  guess  it  will  have  to  be  good-bye, 
too,  for  I  shall  be  on  the  jump  tomorrow  from  dawn  to  dark, 
making  ready  for  my  expedition.  It's  all  too  bad,  but  of 
course  it  can't  be  helped,  and  so — well,  good-bye,  Ruth." 

"Good-bye,  Tony.  Rest  assured  I  shall  never  forget  your 
kind  services  and  devotion,  and  shall  never  cease  to  pray  for 
your  safety  from  all  perils  and  for — your  happiness." 


CHAPTER  XLIX 
ESA'S  BIGGEST  MAGIC 

Captain  Tony  Trigg  was  a  very  sadly  racked  and  nearly  fran 
tic  man  the  night  he  bade  Ruth  Snell  good-bye  and  left  her 
quarters. 

The  gray  mists  of  the  river  had  spread  abroad  and  wrapped 
the  town  in  fog  so  thick  one  could  not  see  a  pace  ahead  of 
him.  Little  the  wonder,  then,  that  Tony  wandered.  The  less 
the  wonder  when  we  recall  the  double  blow  Ruth  had  dealt 
him;  he  had  lost  the  girl  he  had  been  idolizing  and  was  con 
fronting  the  apparently  certain  loss  of  another  girl  who  mad 
ly  loved  him. 

As  the  fires  of  his  love  for  Ruth  had  burned  lower  and  lower 
until  now  they  were  no  more  than  dimly  glowing  embers,  hot 
flames  of  passion  for  Esa  had  seized  upon  him. 

Not  for  a  moment  should  it  be  mistakenly  thought  that 
Ruth  could  not  have  held  him,  that  Tony  was  by  nature 
fickle,  for  he  was  nothing  of  the  sort.  Just  a  little  touch  of 
tenderness  from  Ruth  would  have  probably  sufficed  to  hold 
him  true  to  her,  perhaps  indefinitely. 

But  when  that  night  of  their  farewell  the  embers  crumbled 
to  ashes,  he  would  have  been  far  less  than  the  thoroughly 
human  type  he  was  if  he  could  have  shut  his  ears  to  the  eager 
calls  of  Esa's  love. 

Ha,  was  not  hers  precisely  the  love  he  had  dreamed  of? 

And  how  hungrily  he  would  seize  it  and  tightly  clasp  it  were 
she  a  Christian  maid  of  any  race! 

But  a  pagan — she  was  a  wild  pagan — so  wild  and  unre 
strained  in  her  passions  that  she  would  as  readily  take  the 
life  of  any  whomsoever  as  give  up  her  own  life  for  him. 

And  there  was  the  point :  Could  he  hope  that  ever  again,  in 
woman  of  any  race,  he  would  be  the  object  of  such  mad  idola 
try  as  was  Esa's? 

[233] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

But  just  then  little  brown  fingers  firmly  gripped  his  hand 
and  detained  him  and  a  soft  voice  warned: 

"Cuidado!  Take  care,  Son  of  Fire!  Another  step  and  you're 
in  the  river,  food  for  the  Hungry  Ones !  Are  you  sick?  You've 
been  walking  like  the  blind." 

Which  was  altogether  inconsiderate  of  Fate,  in  two  respects : 
First,  because  it  brought  him  face  to  face  with  the  biggest 
problem  of  his  life  while  yet  it  was  new  to  him  and  unsolved; 
and,  second,  because  a  plunge  among  the  alligators  of  the 
Rio  Grande  might  have  saved  him  from  the  agony  of  a  still 
more  terrible  destiny. 

But,  naturally,  at  the  moment  he  was  very  grateful,  not 
withstanding  the  incident  instantly  made  more  acute  his 
sense  of  the  loss  that  threatened  him,  for  a  guardian  angel 
at  the  elbow  ever  alert  to  intervene  and  save  one  from  peril 
is  not  a  gift  the  gods  often  vouchsafe  us. 

When  he  found  voice,  he  simply  answered: 

"Thank  you,  gordita;  it  seems  I've  wandered  in  the  mists." 

"But  you  are  sick  or  something  troubles  you,  Son  of  Fire," 
the  soft  voice  persisted;  "you  don't  seem  even  to  hear,  for 
one  may  hear  the  rushing  river  even  when  the  mists  hide  it." 

"No,  little  one,  I'm  not  sick  but — yes,  this  may  be  my  only 
chance  to  talk  to  you.  I  am  in  trouble.  Tomorrow  I  go  to 
the  hills  to  fight  the  Moros,  and  now  I  am  just  come  from 
telling  the  white  lady  good-bye." 

"Ah,  and  the  Son  of  Fire  is  hurt  to  leave  her?" 

"Yes,  and  no;  it  is  not  precisely  that.  The  white  lady  tells 
me  she  leaves  here  by  the  next  boat  to  return  to  her  home — 
to  our  country  far  across  the  seas." 

"Ah,  that  is  good;  Esa  likes  that,"  the  soft  voice  murmured. 

"But,  little  one,  the  white  lady  wants  to  do  a  great  deal  for 
you — she  wants  to  take  you  to  her  country.  She  will  teach 
you  all  the  'Mergan  magic,  make  you  like  the  'Mergan  girls. 
There  she  will  take  you  to  live  with  her  as  her  daughter." 

"She,  that  cold  white  woman,  wants  Esa  to  go  with  her 
across  the  seas?" 

"Yes." 

[234] 


ESA'S  BIGGEST  MAGIC 

"And  always — always  there  to  live  with  her,  across  the 
seas?" 

"Yes,  probably  always.  It  isn't  likely  she  will  ever  return 
here." 

"And  you,  Son  of  Fire?" 

"I?  I  remain  here  at  my  work,  little  one." 

"Always?" 

"Ah,  who  can  tell?  Probably  as  long  as  there  are  Moros  to 
fight — which  very  likely  means  to  the  end  of  my  days." 

"But  you  know,  Esa  will  never  follow  her,  Son  of  Fire. 
When  Esa  may  not  go  where  you  go,  Esa  dies.  The  white 
lady  goes  alone." 

Bang!  Smash!  With  crushing  force  the  weight  of  his  crisis 
fell  upon  him.  There  was  no  dodging  or  sidestepping.  Indeed, 
there  was  scarcely  time  for  a  moment's  reflection. 

And  the  responsibility  was  all  his. 

For  he  knew  she  would  do,  literally,  what  he  directed. 

Meantime  Esa  was  either  meeting  the  emergency  with  ex 
traordinary  bravery  or  else  she  herself  was  stunned  by  the 
weight  of  the  blow. 

Her  tones  neither  rose  nor  fell. 

The  little  brown  fingers  were  nearly  biting  into  his,  but  not 
otherwise  did  she  show  any  emotion. 

Few  were  the  instants  this  strong  man  took  to  terminate 
his  trial. 

Perhaps  no  man's  fidelity  to  his  traditions  and  the  conven 
tions  ingrained  into  him  in  his  youth  was  ever  more  severely 
tested. 

Himself  by  nature  a  throw-back  to  remote  generations  when 
men  loved  and  battled  without  restraint,  these  natural  pro 
clivities  had  been  fostered  and  strengthened  by  years  of 
battling  on  wild  frontiers. 

But  few  men  are,  after  all,  better  or  worse  than  the  tradi 
tions  of  their  youth,  and  all  the  traditions  of  Captain  Tony 
Trigg  had  been  of  the  best. 

Where  all  power  lay  in  his  hands,  there,  too,  lay  all  the  re 
sponsibility. 

[235] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

And  to  do  anything  that  could  bring  grief  to  his  old  father 
and  mother  was  not  to  be  considered. 

Thus  it  seemed  that  passion  had  lost  and  tradition  won 
when  he  laid  his  hand  on  Esa's  shoulder  and  looking  kindly 
down  into  the  big  anxious  eyes,  very  gently  murmured: 

"Little  one,  you  should  go.  You  must  go  with  the  white 
lady.  It  is  best  for  you.  I  shall  not  deny  I  hate  to  lose  you, 
little  one,  but  the  white  lady  will  make  you  like  the  women  of 
her  race.  It  is  better  you  should  go." 

"But  Esa  don't  want  to  be  like  the  'Mergan  women;  if  all 
are  like  her,  Esa  would  die.  Esa  wants  to  stay  here — hopes 
one  day  to  go  back  to  her  home  among  the  tree  tops  of  Mt. 
Apo."  ' 

"But,  little  one,  think  of  all  the  wonderful  magic  you  have 
already  learned  from  the  Moros  and  from  us,  and  let  me  tell 
you  all  of  it  is  very  little  to  what  you  will  learn  if  you  go  with 
the  white  lady." 

"You  know,  Son  of  Fire.  What  you  say  must  be  true.  But 
of  what  good  to  Esa  is  magic  that  she  cannot  use?  Esa  only 
cares  for  magic  that  will  make  her  more  powerful  to  rule  her 
people  than  were  Punungan  and  Usup." 

"So,  little  one!  You  never  told  me  that  before.  And  so 
you're  figuring  to  return  one  day  and  rule  your  clan?" 

"For  that  Usup  taught  Esa.  That  Esa  has  wanted,  that 
has  been  all  she  wanted,  but  now  she  wants  you,  Son  of  Fire. 
Nothing  else.  You  are  the  biggest  magic  Esa  has  learned, 
bigger  than  all  of  Usup's,  yes,  bigger  than  Lancona's,  for  now 
only  could  she  use  Lancona's  magic  in  your  service,  to  do 
your  will." 

"Lancona's  magic?  What  is  that,  little  Esa?" 

"That?  Oh,  nothing — nothing  like  yours,  Son  of  Fire,  that 
by  turns  makes  Esa  strong  and  leaves  her  weak.  Ah,  you 
don't  know.  Esa  wants  you  all  the  time.  Wherever  she  walks, 
she  sees  you,  Son  of  Fire;  of  nights  she  wakes  feeling  herself 
crushed  breathless  in  your  arms.  You,  Son  of  Fire,  you  are 
Esa's  god,  greater  than  Dewata.  Esa  must  do  what  you  say, 
but  Esa  wants  you,  Esa — " 

[236] 


ESA'S  BIGGEST  MAGIC 

"But  stop,  stop;  por  Dios,  stop,  little  one!"  cried  the  severe 
ly  tried  Tony ;  for,  while  her  voice  was  still  low  and  even,  to 
him  who  knew  her  so  well,  its  very  self-control  more  strongly 
emphasized  the  waves  of  passion  that  were  sweeping  her  than 
could  any  violence. 

When  the  ungovernable  appear  to  be  governing  themselves, 
it  is  time  to  have  a  care. 

"But  tomorrow  you  leave,  Son  of  Fire,"  the  low  voice  slow 
ly  resumed,  "and — tonight — tonight  we  are  alone — as — as 
in  the  old  stone  fort!" 

The  low  voice  hushed,  both  remained  silent. 

The  great,  black  Oriental  eyes  blazed  eagerly,  pleadingly, 
hungrily  up  into  his. 

But  not  for  long. 

For  presently  they  softened,  of  conviction  of  assured  satis 
faction,  as  she  felt  his  grip  of  her  shoulder  tightening 

Whereupon  a  kindly  shift  of  the  night  breeze  enveloped 
them  in  a  cloud  of  mist  so  dense  that  not  even  the  bright 
lamps  of  luciernagas  could  penetrate  it. 


[237] 


CHAPTER  L 
TONY  AND  HIS  TERRIERS 

From  "Reveille"  to  "Retreat/'  Captain  Tony  Trigg  and  his 
teniente  had  been  working  like  beavers  with  preparations  for 
their  campaign.  The  Quartermaster's  stores  were  to  be  drawn 
on  for  munitions  and  innumerable  details  of  equipment,  the 
Commissary  for  provisions,  and  even  the  hospital's  reserves 
of  medicines  and  surgical  supplies  were  laid  under  tribute, 
for  with  neither  a  spare  surgeon  nor  even  hospital  steward 
available  to  accompany  them,  they  must  prepare  to  deal  with 
their  own  sick  and  wounded. 

But  countless  as  were  the  items  which  must  not  be  forgot 
ten,  nevertheless  comparatively  light  was  the  weight  and 
small  the  bulk  when  all  the  stores  were  assembled  and  sub 
divided  into  compact,  convenient  loads  for  the  cargadores, 
the  native  burden-bearers  who  constitute  the  only  transport 
serviceable  in  the  hill  country  where  the  streams  are  so  swift 
that  vintas  cannot  be  used  and  lack  of  paths  precludes  the 
use  of  carabaos. 

Captain  Trigg  was  an  old  hand  at  bush  fighting,  and  did  not 
propose  to  hamper  himself  with  a  transport  service  that  could 
not  pretty  well  keep  up  with  his  little  brown  terriers.  More 
over,  he  knew  his  tropics  and  what  happens  to  temperate 
zone  men  who  persist  in  living  there  as  they  do  at  home.  The 
men  were  stripped  as  near  to  the  buff  as  practicable  and  ra 
tions  were  reduced  to  a  few  nourishing  but  non-heating  sim 
ples,  with  strong  preference  for  types  of  food-stuffs  that  may 
be  eaten  uncooked,  such  as  raisins,  prunes,  chocolate,  etc.; 
the  scent  of  smoke  carries  far  in  the  jungle,  and  that  of  cook 
ing  food  carries  farther  still.  If  a  column  is  marching  quietly, 
camp  may  well  happen  to  be  made  within  a  few  yards  of  an 
enemy,  and  all  enemies  native  to  the  jungle  thread  its  laby 
rinths  silent  as  disembodied  spirits  and  are  keen  of  scent  as 
any  of  the  jungle  beasts. 

[239] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

No  noisy  column  ever  scores  a  forest  surprise,  and  when  the 
sign  shows  a  hot  trail  the  making  of  camp  fires  is  inviting  the 
boloing  of  one's  sentries  or  a  dawn  surprise  of  one's  camp. 

Hence,  there  was  little  of  bacon,  tinned  meats  or  any  sort  of 
highly  heating  food,  but  plenty  of  rice,  biscuit,  sugar  and 
dried  fruits  in  Captain  Trigg's  commissariat. 

Tents,  camp  cots  and  all  like  weighty  luxuries  were  dispens 
ed  with,  and  when  shortly  after  "Retreat"  he  marched  his 
company  aboard  the  launch,  Tony  and  his  teniente,  as  well  as 
all  his  men,  were  stripped  of  their  underclothing  and  clad  in 
nothing  but  shirts,  trousers  and  rope-soled  shoes — all  as  mo 
bile  and  as  fit  for  silent,  hard  marching  as  the  enemy  they 
were  detailed  to  pursue. 

And  lucky  for  Tony  it  doubtless  was  that  his  preparation 
had  kept  him  closely  preoccupied,  too  busy  to  grieve  over 
either  the  love  that  had  not  or  over  that  other  mad  love  that 
had  so  completely  sufficed  him,  or  perhaps,  at  the  moment, 
even  to  realize  that  within  a  few  days  both  Ruth  and  Esa 
would  be  on  the  high  seas,  sailing  away  out  of  his  life. 

Indeed,  it  was  not  until  the  lights  of  Cotabato  had  faded 
from  his  sight  that  it  suddenly  occurred  to  Tony  as  strange, 
very  strange,  that  he  had  seen  nothing  of  Esa  during  the  day. 

What  could  that  mean,  he  thought.  Probably  that  Esa  pre 
ferred  to  carry  away  with  her  across  the  seas  her  memories  of 
their  previous  evening  together  within  the  veil  of  the  mists  to 
those  of  a  parting  at  the  launch's  gang-plank  where  she  could 
not  hope  to  so  much  as  touch  his  hand. 

And  when  at  last  he  fell  asleep,  it  was  to  toss  restlessly 
throughout  a  night  of  rapidly  alternating  dreams — first,  of 
one  or  another  of  his  scenes  with  Ruth  that  always  left  him 
chilled,  shivering,  all  but  congealed;  and  then  of  Esa's  mad 
fondlings  that  set  his  pulse  wildly  pounding  and  left  him  hot, 
gasping,  nigh  breathless. 

Did  all  the  world  hold  two  such  wide  opposites  as  the  girl 
he  had  in  vain  idolized  and  she  who  now  so  completely  pos 
sessed  him? 

AH  night  long  the  launch  chugged  away  up  the  Rio  Grande, 

[240] 


TONY  AND  HIS  TERRIERS 

and  all  the  following  day  as  well,  for  his  speed  was  such  there 
was  no  fear  of  news  of  the  coming  of  his  expedition  getting 
ahead  of  him. 

His  landing  was  to  be  made  near  the  junction  of  the  Kabak- 
an  and  Malbul  Rivers,  whence  his  march  into  the  hills  south 
of  Mt.  Apo  would  begin. 

It  was  in  the  brief  tropical  twilight  that  Tony  emptied  the 
launch  of  his  men  and  their  supplies  and  equipment. 

As  a  group  of  the  porters  were  descending  the  gang-plank 
with  the  last  of  the  cargo,  among  them  Captain  Trigg  noted  a 
Moro  youth  carrying  a  load,  but  obviously  too  young  and 
light  of  weight  to  be  employed  for  service  as  a  porter  unless 
in  some  emergency  where  men  could  not  be  had.  At  the  time 
it  struck  him  as  strange  that  he  could  not  recall  having  seen 
the  lad  before,  either  during  the  loading  of  the  launch  in  Co- 
tabato  or  while  voyaging  upstream. 

But,  after  all,  a  porter  is  a  porter,  a  creature  of  burden,  as 
are  domestic  four-footed  beasts,  and  since  the  lad  was  carry 
ing  his  load  Cap  tain  Trigg  dismissed  the  matter  from  his  mind. 

As  soon  as  all  his  effects  were  ashore  and  the  individual 
loads  were  distributed  among  the  porters,  Captain  Trigg  began 
a  night  march.  His  first  task  was  to  try  to  surprise  a  couple 
of  rancherias  that  were  close  to  the  outer  Moro  frontier  and 
to  undertake  to  disarm  them,  for  the  Datus  of  both  ranch 
erias  were  among  the  more  active  of  the  slave-raiders  and 
hence  were  deemed  certain  to  take  to  the  bush  shortly  if  they 
had  not  already  done  so. 

Three  hard  night  marches,  the  three  intervening  days  pass 
ed  lying  very  quietly  in  the  dusky  recesses  of  the  jungle, 
enabled  him  to  effect  a  complete  surprise  of  the  first  of  these 
two  Datus. 

Summoned  to  surrender  all  his  weapons  of  every  descrip 
tion  or  have  his  clan  exterminated,  the  Chief  parleyed. 

He  pleaded,  not  without  good  reason,  that  the  'Mergans 
might  as  well  strip  him  of  all  clothing  and  food  supplies. 

Without  the  arms,  how  defend  himself  and  his  people  against 

[241  ] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

clan  enemies,  how  till  the  soil  now  that  his  carabaos  were  dead 
of  the  rinderpest? 

All  which  was  true  enough,  but  orders  were  orders  and  Tony 
had  nothing  to  do  but  persist  in  his  demand. 

Convinced  of  the  futility  of  his  pleadings,  and  less  bold  than 
most  of  his  fellow  chiefs,  the  Datu  sullenly  delivered  up  his 
arms,  and  Tony's  column  marched  on. 

And  it  was  not  until  his  porters  were  filing  past  him  out  of 
this  village  that  it  suddenly  occurred  to  Captain  Tony  Trigg 
that  since  leaving  the  river  he  had  seen  nothing  of  the  young 
Moro  lad  he  had  observed  fetching  a  load  ashore  from  the 
launch,  the  night  he  had  disembarked  his  troops. 

And  when  the  circumstance  struck  him  as  so  curious  that 
he  made  inquiry,  first  of  his  teniente  and  then  of  his  non-com 
missioned  officers  and  men,  it  was  to  learn  that  while  several 
recalled  seeing  the  lad  aboard  the  launch  none  had  again  set 
eyes  on  him  since  their  landing  at  the  mouth  of  the  Kabakan. 

All  of  which  worried  Captain  Tony  Trigg  not  a  little,  for  he 
made  sure  the  lad  must  be  some  messenger  smuggled  aboard 
at  Cotabato  to  warn  the  Datus  of  the  frontier  to  be  on  guard 
for  him. 

However,  such  are  the  fortunes  of  war  and  he  must  make 
the  best  of  it,  but  obviously  the  difficulties  of  his  task  were 
likely  to  be  doubled. 

And  sure  enough,  the  next  rancheria  he  marched  on  he  did 
not  manage  to  surprise. 

Instead,  to  his  own  surprise,  he  was  met  by  a  messenger  of 
its  Datu  with  word  that  the  Datu  was  advised  of  his  ap 
proach  and  demanding  an  explanation  of  its  purpose,  and 
further  warning  him  that  the  Datu  and  his  people  would 
fight  till  they  were  dead  if  he  attempted  to  enter  their  village. 

Anxious  to  avoid  hostilities  if  possible,  Captain  Trigg  camped 
his  command  and  returned  word  to  the  Datu  by  his  messen 
ger  that  all  his  arms  must  be  surrendered  forthwith. 

To  this  message  the  Datu  boldly  answered  that  never  had 
he  attacked  the  'Mergans,  nor  would  he  attack  them  if  he 
and  his  people  were  left  to  themselves.  But  if  the  'Mergan 

[242] 


TONY  AND  HIS  TERRIERS 

chiefs  attempted  in  any  way  to  interfere  with  him,  he  would 
fight,  and  if  necessary  die,  for  his  privileges  and  his  land. 

For  three  days  Captain  Trigg  patiently  parleyed,  but  late  the 
afternoon  of  the  third  day  he  came  to  realize  that  further 
negotiation  was  useless,  and  marched  on  the  village. 

Arrived  there,  he  found  that  the  Datu  had  sent  all  his  wom 
en  and  children  into  the  forest  and  had  lined  up  his  men  in 
front  of  their  huts,  for  battle. 

Directing  his  men  under  no  circumstances  to  fire  until  or 
dered,  Captain  Trigg  slowly  advanced  his  men  in  open  order, 
ready  for  the  rush  of  the  enemy  he  felt  certain  must  come. 

But  steadily  the  Moros  held  their  position,  just  as  steadily 
as  Tony's  men  advanced. 

Nothing  is  more  trying  on  their  enemies  than  a  slow,  steady, 
silent  advance  of  troops  bearing  firearms. 

Would  they  never  fire?  Would  those  terrible  'Mergans  keep 
coming  slowly  on  until  their  weapons  that  smoke  like  Mt. 
Apo  could  be  jambed  against  naked  bodies  and  blow  great 
holes  in  them? 

That  sort  of  fighting  was  just  a  little  bit  too  much  for  Moro 
nerves.  Had  a  single  shot  been  fired,  every  Moro  would  have 
died  on  the  field  fighting,  face  to  face  with  the  white  enemy. 

But  stand  this  slow,  silent  advance  they  could  not.  Sud 
denly  their  line  broke  and  all  "bunked,"  scattering  among  the 
huts,  racing  beyond  them  toward  the  forest  and  leaving  their 
Datu  standing  alone. 

But  no  more  had  they  deserted  their  splendid  old  War  Chief 
than  he  began  a  very  deliberate,  dignified  advance  on  the 
approaching  line,  fiercely  twirling  his  kris  about  his  head  un 
til  it  seemed  that  the  long  gray-bearded  chieftain  was  crown 
ed  with  white  hot  flames. 

Of  course  he  had  to  do  it,  but  it  is  doubtful  if  ever  in  his  life 
Captain  Tony  Trigg  more  reluctantly  gave  an  order  than  that 
which  caused  the  splendid  old  Datu  to  drop,  riddled  with 
bullets,  within  ten  feet  of  his  enemies. 

And  then,  since  a  lesson  was  necessary,  another  reluctant 
order  soon  laid  the  village  in  ashes. 

[243] 


CHAPTER  LI 
HOW  RECONCILE  CONFLICTING  WILLS? 

It  was  dawn. 

She  stood  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  gallery  of  Ruth's  quar 
ters. 

Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  Mt.  Apo,  whose  blue  cone  towered 
high  aloft  into  the  zenith  above  the  mists  that  still  shrouded 
the  valley,  the  same  kindly  mists  that  veiled  her  last  hours 
with  Tony  the  night  before,  down  by  the  river. 

If  love  is  a  gauge  given  us  with  which  to  measure  our  ca 
pacity  for  suffering,  as  a  clever  French  cynic  has  held,  then, 
certainly,  Esa's  love  was  infinite.  Her  suffering  was  over 
whelming.  The  memories  of  her  ecstasy  while  clasped  tight 
to  Tony's  breast  now  only  served  to  intensify  her  agony. 

What  was  she  to  do? 

The  white  woman  was  determined  to  take  her  across  the 
seas  to  the  'Mergan  country.  And  the  Son  of  Fire  insisted 
she  should  go. 

What,  leave  him,  when  that  very  same  night  he  was  him 
self  starting  out  to  war  with  the  Moros !  Ha,  that  would  be 
when  he  would  need  her  most,  she  who  knew  the  jungles, 
their  folk  and  secrets,  better  than  any  Moro. 

Go  across  the  seas  with  the  white  woman?  Far  better  to 
die.  The  restraints  of  life  with  her  in  Cotabato  were  bad 
enough.  Every  last  one  of  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  this 
'Mergan  house  were  obnoxious  to  her,  made  her  long  more 
and  more  for  the  care-free  liberty  of  life  among  the  Pugsan 
tree  tops.  In  the  'Mergans'  own  country,  how  much  worse 
it  must  be,  ever  shut  within  towns,  stranger  to  the  songs  of 
hill  streams  and  the  voices  of  the  forest ! 

But  he  has  told  her  she  must  go.  And  his  will  is  Esa's  law. 
When  the  white  woman  leaves  on  one  of  the  great  boats  that 
smoke  like  Mt.  Apo,  Esa,  too,  must  leave. 

[245] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

But  suppose  the  white  woman  should  not  go!  Suppose  she 
could  not  go  back  to  her  country! 

While  she  may  go,  Esa  must  wait,  ready  to  go  with  her,  for 
so  he  has  ordered. 

But  if  the  white  woman  cou/c?nodeave,  why,  then  Esa  would  be 
free  to  follow  the  Son  of  Fire  into  the  jungles,  safe  of  chiding 
from  him  for  doing  other  than  his  will! 

But  by  the  red  wings  of  Toomulkun,  look! 

In  the  name  of  all  the  Limbings,  what  is  that? 

To  be  sure  it  was  only  the  blood-red  tropical  sun  poised  for 
an  instant  precisely  on  the  point  of  Mt.  Apo's  lofty  cone,  but 
to  the  fevered  vision  of  our  badly-tortured  little  jungle  mys 
tic  it  was  no  less  than  a  fiery  glance  of  Dewata' s  angry  eye,  in 
which  she  read  a  message  and  a  mandate  that  first  made  her 
shiver  and  then  set  her  rigid  as  bronze. 

Ha !  At  last !  How  often  had  she  invoked  Dewata  s  aid — but 
always  in  vain !  But  now,  now  at  last  He  was  come  to  her,  to 
her  aid !  Ah,  but  it  was  a  wise  and  a  great  Dewata,  not  to  be 
troubled  with  little  things;  such  a  good  Dewata,  who  conies 
and  answers  Esa  instantly  now  that  her  need  of  Him  is  so 
much  greater  than  ever  before. 

So?  That  was  Dewata 's  will.  She  should  have  thought  of 
that  before. 

With  the  capture  of  Usup,  the  Pugsan  clan  were  left  with 
out  an  Ingorandy. 

And  now  that  Usup  was  dead  and  could  never  return,  who 
but  she,  Esa,  could  take  his  place? 

Who  but  Esa  could  receive  Dewata  s  messages  from  the 
great  red-winged  Toomulkun,  send  the  terrible  Busau  against 
the  clan's  enemies,  and,  by  placating  the  big,  black,  limping 
Munowog,  avert  the  working  of  calamities  by  that  devil  brood, 
the  Limbings? 

Ha!  And  she  had  been  fool  enough  to  think  Lancona's  magic 
mightier  than  Dewata' s! 

But  not  now,  not  since  that  great,  red,  angry  eye  had 
burned  its  message  into  her  brain. 

"Come,  Priestess;  return  to  your  clan!"  said  that  angry  eye. 

[246] 


HOW  RECONCILE  CONFLICTING  WILLS? 

So  be  it.  Who  might  ignore  so  obvious  a  mandate  direct 
from  Dewata?  Certainly  not  she,  whom  Dewata  himself,  act 
ing  through  Usup,  had  dedicated  to  His  service. 

And  yet  there  was  the  will  of  the  Son  of  Fire,  that  decreed 
she  must  cross  the  seas  with  the  white  woman! 

How  reconcile  the  two? 

One  she  dared  not  disobey;  the  other  she  would  not. 

But  stop.  So?  So?  So?  How  stupid.  That  would  do.  It  should 
have  occurred  to  her  before.  That  would  solve  the  riddle. 
Then  she  could  fulfill  Dewata  s  will — and  once  back  among 
her  clan  she  could  work  her  own  will  without  disobedience  of 
the  Son  of  Fire! 

So  wrapt  was  she  in  her  vision  and  in  the  plans  it  suggested 
that  she  did  not  realize  that  for  some  time  Ruth  had  been 
standing  near,  closely  observing  her.  Not  until  Ruth  spoke 
did  she  realize  it. 

"Dreaming  of  your  hill  life  again,  I  suppose,  child,"  the 
white  woman  began  in  her  halting  Spanish. 

"Yes,  senora,"  Esa  simply  answered. 

"But  surely  you  must  find  yourself  very  much  more  com 
fortable  and  happy  here  with  me,  here  where  you  are  decent 
ly  clothed  and  always  liberally  fed,  and  where  you  are  learn 
ing  so  fast  the — what  you  call  the  'Mergan  magic.  Is  it  not 
so,  Esa?" 

"But  Esa  was  bred  there,"  pointing  into  the  east  where  the 
clouds  that  daily  veiled  Mt.  Apo  were  already  climbing  its 
flanks ;  "Esa  was  bred  up  there  among  the  Mt.  Apo  tree  tops," 
she  answered. 

"Yes,  yes;  I  understand;  but  all  the  savagery  of  your  jungle 
life  you've  got  to  forget,  for  you  are  not  to  return  to  Mt.  Apo, 
I've  other  plans  for  you,"  Ruth  continued,  and  there  was  a 
note  of  firmness  in  her  tones  that  Esa  had  already  come  to 
understand. 

"Plans  for  me,  senora?"  she  asked,  in  apparent  surprise. 

"Yes,  I'm  to  leave  the  Island  soon  and  return  across  the 
seas  to  my  people.  You  will  go  with  me.  I  shall  make  you  my 
daughter,  or  sister,  keep  you  with  me  in  my  home  among  the 

[247] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

'Mergans,  there  to  live  as  we  live,  to  be  taught  all  we  know, 
to  forget  all  your  wretched  heathen  gods  and  to  learn  to  wor 
ship  our  God,  the  one  and  only  true  God.  It  is  a  wonderful 
opportunity  I  shall  give  you.  You  will  be  glad,  will  you  not?" 

"No,  senora,"  came  a  very  quiet  answer.  "Esa  would  stay 
in  sight  of  Mt.  Apo.  Esa  wants  you  to  let  her  stay  here.  That 
will  be  better — for  you,  senora." 

"But  that's  my  affair,  girl,  any  trouble  you  are  to  me — and 
goodness  knows  I  suppose  there'll  be  a  lot  of  it,"  she  added 
under  her  breath. 

"And  Esa  must  go?" 

"Yes,  girl;  that  is  my  intention." 

"Bueno,  entonces;  good,  then;  Esa  will  be  ready — when  the 
senora  goes." 

"Ah,  that's  better,  child,"  Ruth  Snell  smiled,  and  then 
passed  in  to  her  breakfast. 


[248] 


CHAPTER  LII 
STALKING  MARATUNS 

The  first  two  Datus  he  had  to  deal  with  disposed  of,  Captain 
Trigg's  next  and  much  more  serious  undertaking  was  to  lo 
cate  and  strike  Datu  Linta's  clan. 

They  were  quite  a  different  proposition,  for  it  is  to  be  re 
membered  that  Linta's  Maratuns  were  made  up  of  the  most 
desperate  fighters  and  habitual  slave-raiders  of  the  Moro 
race.  They  might  fly  at  his  approach  or  they  might  take  the 
aggressive  and  seek  to  cut  him  up  from  ambush.  However, 
since  the  Datu  Telecoco  had  managed  to  efface  Ishmael  and 
several  of  the  Maratun  raiders,  an  organized  attack  from 
them  was  not  very  likely.  But  surprise  or  surround  them  and 
it  was  a  certainty  they  would  fight  to  the  death. 

But  prowl  and  crosscut  the  jungle  of  the  rough  hill  country 
he  was  in,  as  much  as  he  would,  ten  days  elapsed  before  Cap 
tain  Trigg  struck  a  trail — and  was  convinced  it  must  be  their 
trail,  because  so  far  as  he  had  been  able  to  learn  the  Mara 
tuns  were  the  only  band  that  ranged  that  section. 

As  nearly  as  he  could  judge,  there  were  between  seventy 
and  one  hundred  of  them. 

And  along  this  trail,  relentlessly  as  hounds  on  a  hot  scent, 
Captain  Trigg  led  his  little  brown  terriers  for  weeks. 

Often  he  found  from  the  "sign"  of  their  camps  that  they 
had  been  passing  the  night  within  mid-rifle  range  of  each 
other,  and  again  the  artful  Moros  would  double  up  or  down 
some  stream  and  manage  to  lose  their  pursuers  for  a  day  or 
two. 

The  going  was  terrible,  always  either  through  the  tangle  of 
close  crowding  jungle  growths,  wherein  at  every  step  his  men 
were  in  reach  of  a  mortal  stab  from  an  out-thrust  kris,  or 
struggling  through  cogon  grass  twice  the  height  of  one's  head 
and  thick  as  the  hair  on  a  dog's  back. 

Nowhere  in  the  world  was  there  ever  harder  campaigning 

[249] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

than  Captain  Trigg's  two  months*  pursuit  of  the  Maratuns, 
often  for  continuous  distance  of  as  much  as  twelve  miles  wad 
ing  breast  deep  in  the  cold  waters  and  stumbling  and  falling 
over  the  boulders  of  mountain  streams  to  which  his  quarry 
had  taken  to  throw  him  off  their  scent,  and  which  he  must  of 
course  follow  to  find  where  they  left  the  stream  and  again 
plunged  into  the  jungle. 

Nor  dared  he  abate  his  guard  for  a  second. 

For  while  this  pursuit  was  much  like  the  old  Far  Western 

fame  of  walking  down  wild  horses,  wherein  one  man  afoot 
ept  a  band  of  horses  moving  for  nine  days  and  then  usually 
got  them  so  worn  and  exhausted  that,  still  afoot  himself,  he 
could  drive  them  into  a  pen,  nevertheless  the  Maratuns  were 
quite  another  proposition. 

Day  by  day  and  week  by  week  the  pursuit  continued,  Cap 
tain  Trigg  and  his  men  steadily  growing  leaner  and  harder  as 
long  as  their  provisions  lasted. 

But,  just  fancy  it,  ye  livers  on  the  fat  flesh  pots  of  civiliza 
tion,  for  four  entire  weeks  of  the  finish  of  the  campaign  the 
complete  exhaustion  of  the  supplies  compelled  this  indomi 
table  soldier  to  subsist  his  men  like  savages,  on  the  edible 
nuts,  fruits  and  roots  of  the  jungle ! 

Now  the  chase  was  getting  close,  the  quarry  never  more 
than  a  few  hours  ahead  of  him. 

Vigilance  must  be  redoubled,  for  surely  the  Moros  must  by 
this  time  be  desperate. 

Thus  of  nights  the  little  brown  terriers  were  made  to  sleep 
in  a  narrow  circle,  heads  to  the  circle's  centre  and  feet  out, 
bayonets  fixed  on  rifles,  the  butt  of  each  rifle  at  the  shoulder, 
the  bayonet  at  the  feet,  so  that,  even  when  risen  to  no  better 
than  a  sitting  position,  all  were  ready  to  receive  a  charge  at 
the  first  note  of  alarm  from  the  sentries  posted  in  the  centre 
of  the  circle. 

Doubtless  their  night  camps  were  spied  on  often,  but  their 
positions  found  too  difficult  to  invite  an  attack. 

Nevertheless  the  pursuers  were  not  to  escape  scot-free. 

Late  one  afternoon,  shortly  before  the  camping  hour,  when 

[250] 


STALKING  MARATUNS 

almost  complete  darkness  shut  them  in  and  all  were  pain 
fully  plodding  along,  exhausted  of  their  all-day  hike,  sud 
denly  out  of  ambush  and  upon  the  head  of  the  column  sprang 
four  Moros. 

This  ambush  was  even  a  louder  and  closer  call  for  the  life  of 
Captain  Tony  Trigg  than  was  his  fight  on  the  banks  of  the 
Dagao  River  to  rescue  Esa,  for  he  was  full  twenty-five  yards 
in  front  of  his  men  when  the  attack  was  delivered. 

Directly  on  him  sprang  two  of  the  Moros. 

One  he  dropped  dead  with  a  snap  shot  from  his  carbine, 
but,  before  he  had  time  to  reload  it,  the  heavy  campilan 
blade  of  the  other  Moro  was  actually  descending  upon  his 
unprotected  head. 

Apparently  nothing  could  save  him — it  was  his  finish — for 
he  was  out  of  sight  of  his  men,  who  were  sharply  engaged  in 
the  bush  behind  him,  firing  rapidly. 

A  second  would  have  served  to  lift  his  carbine  aloft  and  re 
ceive  the  blow  on  its  barrel,  or  to  jump  aside,  but  no  spare 
second  was  his. 

Down  upon  him  swept  the  campilan  blade. 

Nothing  could  save  him. 

But  nothing? 

Ha,  good  God!  What  is  that?  The  fierce  Moro  suddenly 
falls  limp  into  Tony's  arms  deluging  him  with  blood,  and 
something  pricks  him  sharply  in  the  ribs,  while  the  campilan 
clatters  into  the  bush  behind  him — and  then  the  Moro's  body 
slips  to  the  ground  and  lies  still! 

By  the  time  Tony  had  time  to  leap  back  to  the  aid  of  his 
men,  the  other  two  Moros  were  also  dead,  both  pretty  well 
riddled  with  bullets. 

And  when  this  jack-out-of-the-box  action  was  over  and  Tony 
came  to  examine  the  dead,  it  was  to  confront  one  of  the  big 
gest  surprises  and  puzzles  of  his  life. 

The  only  wounds  on  the  Moro  who  had  been  in  the  act  of 
cutting  Tony  down  with  his  campilan  when  he  so  mysterious 
ly  dropped  dead  into  Tony's  arms  were  made  by  two  poison 
ed  blow-gun  darts  that  remained  sticking  in  his  back  and  the 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

transfixing  of  his  heart  by  the  long  obonfa-pointed  Monobo 
arrow  that  had  pricked  Tony's  ribs,  and  both  of  the  Moros 
who  had  attacked  his  men  had  also  been  targets  for  Monobo 
weapons ! 

And  yet  no  Monobo  had  been  seen,  nor  did  a  quick  beating 
of  the  adjacent  jungle  win  him  a  glimpse  of  one! 

What  in  the  name  of  all  the  world's  biggest  mysteries  could 
it  mean? 

Puzzle  as  he  would,  throughout  that  night  and  for  days 
thereafter,  Tony  could  find  no  explanation  for  the  happening 
except  that  a  band  of  Monobo  warriors  had  been  stalking 
their  hereditary  enemies  and  had  just  chanced  to  come  in 
firing  range  of  the  Moros  at  the  moment  of  their  attack  of  his 
column. 

This  and  no  more  could  Tony  make  of  the  incident. 

But,  whatever  the  facts,  it  was  very  grateful,  indeed,  he  was 
for  their  providential  aid. 

Just  fancy  it! 

What  coincidence  could  be  more  weird  than  the  purely  ac 
cidental  saving  of  his  life  by  his  dearly-loved  Esa's  own 
tribesmen — who  had  doubtless  been  frightened  to  rapid 
flight  by  the  heavy  rifle  fire! 


[  252  ] 


CHAPTER  LI  1 1 
RUTH'S  JOURNEY  HOME 

It  had  been  a  hard  day  for  Governor  Morine  as  well  as  for 
Captain  Tony  Trigg,  had  been  that  of  the  departure  of  the  lat 
ter  s  expedition  for  the  hill  country  lying  between  Mt.  Apo 
and  Davao  Bay. 

Other  expeditions  were  being  organized,  and  for  him  there 
had  been  no  rest  since  dawn.  Thus,  as  soon  as  Tony's  launch 
had  steamed  away  on  the  flooding  tide,  the  Governor  return 
ed  to  his  quarters  bent  on  a  hasty  supper  and  an  early  turn 
in. 

But  scarcely  was  he  comfortably  settled  at  his  supper  when 
he  heard  bare  feet  bounding  up  the  steps  that  led  to  the  gal 
lery  of  his  quarters,  and  in  rushed  a  wild-eyed  native  woman 
whom  he  recognized  as  one  of  Ruth  Snell's  domestics.  Up 
close  beside  him  she  rushed  and  stood  stock-still,  her  lips 
moving  nervously  but  speechless. 

"Well,  well!  What  is  it?  Speak?"  ordered  the  Governor. 

But  still  the  woman  stood  trembling,  staring,  silent. 

Springing  up  and  seizing  her  shoulder  and  snaking  her  the 
Governor  ordered: 

"But  speak  woman!  What  is  it?" 

"The  white  woman — the  mistress — I  think — is  dead.  She 
lays-" 

But  without  waiting  to  hear  more,  the  Governor  sent  his 
mess  boy  for  the  post  surgeon  and  raced  out  of  his  own  quar 
ters  and  across  to  Ruth's. 

As  he  bounded  up  the  steps,  through  the  dusk  he  saw  the 
slim  white  figure  of  Ruth  naturally  enough  extended  in  one 
of  the  long  lounge  chairs,  but  with  the  head  lopped  over  and 
resting  on  her  right  shoulder,  in  a  suspiciously  unnatural 
position. 

Another  leap  and  he  was  at  her  side — and  as  he  sought  to 
raise  the  drooping  head,  his  heart  stood  still  of  the  shock  of 

[253] 


f. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

finding  her  drenched  in  blood,  the  beautiful  head  half  severed 
by  a  down  stroke  of  a  bolo,  that,  delivered  from  the  side  by 
some  stealthy  assassin  who  had  crept  upon  her  through  the 
darkness  from  the  rear,  had  cut  deeply  into  the  collar  bone. 

No  surgeon  could  do  anything  for  Ruth. 

Her  death  had  been  instantaneous. 

For  perhaps  five  minutes,  indeed  until  the  arrival  of  the 
surgeon,  Governor  Morine  stood  overwhelmed,  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears — tears  for  the  sweet,  pure,  young  life  of  this  girl 
of  rarely  high  ideals,  extinguished  in  its  early  morning,  and 
tears  for  the  irreparable  grief  it  must  cause  her  lover,  whom 
he  himself  had  come  to  love  as  a  brother. 

In  such  moments,  overwhelmed  by  calamity  though  one 
may  be,  the  thoughts  race  quickly. 

Joe  Morine  found  himself  wondering  whether,  perchance, 
after  all,  Providence  had  not  been  working  in  a  most  fright 
fully  cruel  way  but  with  kindly  intent. 

For  Ruth  Snell  intellectually  he  held  the  highest  esteem,  so 
held  and  admired  her  more  than  any  woman  he  had  ever 
known,  and  for  her  he  felt  the  warmest  friendship;  but  surely 
God  must  know,  as  he  himself  well  knew,  that  never  could 
peace,  or  much  less  happiness  or  even  content,  result  from 
the  mating  of  two  such  diametrically  remote  opposites  as 
Ruth  and  Tony — he,  hot-blooded  and  almost  as  unbridled 
as  ever  was  the  lustiest  berserker,  she  apparently  as  com 
pletely  passionless  as  are  the  unsexed. 

For,  of  course,  not  even  to  him  had  Tony  confided  the  least 
hint  of  his  disappointments,  much  less  of  his  break  with  Ruth. 

How  would  the  madly-loving  Tony  ever  manage  to  survive 
this  affliction? 

If  this  were  really  the  working  of  a  Providence  that  would 
finish  as  kindly  as  it  had  begun,  then  surely  he  would  never 
set  eyes  on  Tony  again — some  unmarked  grave  in  the  jungle 
must  shortly  hold  his  bones. 

Surely,  just  that  Tony  himself  would  prefer,  to  confront 
ing  news  of  the  loss  by  such  terrible  means  of  the  woman  he 
idolized. 

[254] 


RUTH'S  JOURNEY  HOME 

But  presently  he  was  roused  by  the  coming  of  the  surgeon. 

Lights  were  brought  and  the  people  of  the  household  sum 
moned — to  reveal  no  more  than  Governor  Morine  had  di 
vined  in  the  darkness,  except  that  on  the  floor  of  the  gallery 
beside  her  lay  a  bolo  of  a  sort  commonly  used  for  domestic 
purposes  and  identified  as  one  belonging  to  the  house.  Evi 
dently,  it  had  been  found  and  appropriated  by  the  assassin, 
the  better  to  conceal  his  identity. 

At  the  very  first  instant  Governor  Morine  concentrated  his 
mind  upon  the  discovery  and  punishment  of  the  assassin,  his 
suspicions  settled  fixedly  upon  Esa. 

Of  no  other  could  he  think  as  likely  to  so  bitterly  hate  this 
sweet  girl,  whose  life  since  she  came  to  Cotabato  had  been 
devoted  to  the  teaching  of  the  native  young  and  the  succour 
ing  of  the  native  sick,  as  to  prompt  such  a  ruthless  butchery. 

It  must  be  Esa,  and  it  was  of  her  he  first  asked  when  he  be 
gan  a  searching  cross-examination  of  all  the  natives  of  the 
household. 

But  one  and  all  agreed,  were  positive,  that  Esa  had  not  been 
in  or  near  the  house  since,  shortly  after  mid-day,  she  had  left 
it  to  follow  her  mistress  to  school.  Not  one  had  seen  her  after 
that  hour,  and  surely  one  or  another  must  have  seen  her  had 
she  returned  to  the  quarters  or  been  around  the  vicinity. 

Well,  then,  what  had  happened  when  the  white  woman  re 
turned  from  school? 

She  returned  quite  as  usual.  After  an  early  supper  she  had 
passed  out  to  the  gallery  and  had  seated  herself  precisely 
where  she  was  found,  very  shortly  after  sunset  and  night  had 
fallen. 

Had  they  heard  or  seen  no  one  with  her?  Had  they  heard 
no  voices  or  seen  no  one  come  to  her  or  approaching  or  lurk 
ing  about  the  house? 

No.  None  had  heard  voices;  none  had  approached  her  on 
the  veranda,  so  far  as  any  knew;  but  in  the  early  dusk  two 
had  seen  a  Moro  youth  twice  pass  the  house,  and  though  they 
took  him  to  be  Tumog,  the  son  of  Dikaya,  they  could  not 
surely  say,  for  the  light  was  already  very  dim.  The  last  they 

[255] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

saw  of  him  he  had  stopped  near  the  corner  of  the  gallery  far 
thest  from  where  Ruth  sat,  but  since  he  was  quietly  standing 
with  his  back  to  the  house  nothing  was  thought  of  the  inci 
dent. 

Ha!  Tumog,  to  be  sure,  was  a  possible  assassin,  with  a  posi 
tive  motive.  For  was  not  he  the  very  youth  who  drew  his 
kris  on  Ruth  when  she  ordered  him  out  of  the  school  for 
wearing  his  arms,  the  time  Esa's  vigilance  and  prompt  action 
saved  her? 

Tumog!  It  certainly  must  be  Tumog! 

The  Governor,  it  may  be  remembered  was  never  slow.  Thus 
it  was  that  very  few  minutes  elapsed  before  he  had  surround 
ed  the  house  where  Tumog  lived  with  a  detail  of  police,  but 
only  to  find  him  absent.  And  when  it  took  nearly  an  all-night 
house-to-house  search  to  finally  locate  him  in  one  of  the  out 
lying  huts  of  the  town  and  to  there  arrest  him,  naturally  the 
Governor's  suspicions  were  greatly  strengthened. 

Nor  were  the  suspicions  materially  allayed  when  Tumog 
swore  by  the  Prophet  and  by  Balbal  that  he  knew  nothing 
whatever  of  the  crime,  and  that  it  was  a  still  hunt  of  a  girl 
he  was  attached  to  that  had  taken  him  abroad  from  his  home, 
notwithstanding  there  was  not  the  least  stain  on  his  weapons 
or  person  to  connect  him  with  the  crime. 

Tumog  had  a  motive.  Who  else  but  Esa  had?  And  she  had 
not  been  near  the  house. 

Throughout  the  following  day  the  Governor  and  his  agents 
fmetoothcombed  the  town  for  someone  who  could  throw 
light  on  the  murder,  but  with  small  result.  Indeed,  there  was 
no  result  except  that  a  servant  of  the  quarters  next  adjoining 
Ruth's  had  also  seen  a  Moro  youth  lurking  near  the  corner 
of  her  gallery  just  at  nightfall. 

Esa  none  had  seen  since  shortly  after  the  dismissal  of  Ruth's 
afternoon  class. 

And  when  the  Governor's  search  of  the  town  for  evidence 
was  ended  without  finding  Esa  or  any  trace  of  her,  wise  as  are 
few  men  in  the  simple  psychology  of  crude  native  minds,  he 
jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  Esa  had  followed  Tony  off, 

[256] 


RUTH'S  JOURNEY  HOME 

had  managed  to  stow  herself  away  on  the  launch  during  the 
bustle  of  embarking  Tony's  men  and  supplies. 

That  would  be  the  wholly  natural  thing  for  her  to  do. 

And  if  she  had  followed  Tony,  that  certainly  freed  her  of  all 
suspicion,  freed  her  completely. 

Savage  reasoning  is  very  simple  and  direct. 

The  savage  meets  emergencies  as  they  arise,  deals  with 
them  on  impulse. 

Had  Tony  been  remaining  in  Cotabato,  any  day  or  hour  his 
constant  attentions  to  Ruth  might  rouse  Esa's  jealousy  to  a 
pitch  to  inspire  her  to  do  Ruth  violence.  Indeed,  while  he  so 
remained  Ruth  would  never  for  a  moment  be  wholly  safe 
from  Esa. 

But  once  he  was  ordered  into  the  field,  all  Esa's  anxieties 
about  her  rival  would  vanish  and  all  her  thoughts  be  concen 
trated  on  some  scheme  to  follow  and  stay  near  him. 

That  would  be  the  savage  of  it. 

So  Esa  had  surely  figured — and  so  to  a  certainty  she  had 
managed  to  follow  him,  innocent  and  ignorant  of  Ruth's 
death  as  was  Tony  himself. 

And  for  the  fact  that  she  must  be  innocent,  Joe  Morine  was 
very  thankful;  for  not  only  did  he  feel  grateful  to  the  girl  for 
averting  further  trouble  with  the  Datu  Linta  and  for  saving 
Tony  Trigg's  life,  but  he  had  also  come  to  have  a  certain  re 
spect  for  her  rare  intelligence,  boldness  and  independence, 
so  much  that  it  would  be  for  him  a  most  unpleasant  task  to 
have  to  deal  with  her  for  some  crime. 

But  ferret  and  delve  tirelessly  as  he  did,  no  positive  proof 
fixing  the  crime  on  Tumog  could  the  Governor  find.  Still, 
there  was  no  shadow  of  a  doubt  in  his  mind  that  the  Moro 
boy  was  guilty,  and  so  he  was  kept  heavily  ironed  in  the  guard 
house,  on  the  chance  that  time  might  develop  positive  proof. 

And  when,  a  few  days  later,  the  transport  by  which  poor 
Ruth  Snell  had  planned  to  begin  her  journey  home  with  Esa 
sailed  away  into  the  north,  it  carried  the  body  of  the  martyr 
to  James  SnelPs  heartless  greed. 

[257] 


CHAPTER  LIV 
ESA'S  RETURN  TO  MT.  APO 

Ho !  Ho !  But  couldn't  she  scream  with  delight,  if  she  dared ! 

But  the  Son  of  Fire  and  his  marching  column  of  little  brown 
terriers  must  still  be  within  earshot,  and  there  might  be  a 
marauding  band  of  the  Maratuns  prowling  on  the  river. 

At  last  she  was  once  more  afloat  on  her  dearly-loved  Mal- 
bul,  stripped  of  the  Moro  turban  and  habit  that  had  so  well 
served  to  disguise  her  on  the  journey  by  launch  to  the  junc 
tion  of  the  Malbul  and  the  Kabakan. 

Now  and  hereafter  she  could  count  on  the  aid  of  Dewata  for 
sure ;  now  that  she  had  understood  His  will  and  was  so  promptly 
responding  to  it,  His  red  eye  would  guide  her,  His  mighty 
hand  protect  her. 

Surely,  He  must  have  called  Munowog  away  and  sent  the 
good  Limbings  to  bring  her  the  little  vinta  she  had  found  hid 
den  in  the  cana  brava,  within  a  few  yards  of  where  Tony  land 
ed  his  troops,  for  just  thereabouts  no  people  dwell. 

Oh!  the  brave  offering  she  would  make  to  Dewata  and  the 
good  Limbings  as  soon  as  she  reached  Pugsan !  Nor  will  it  be 
well  for  her  to  forget  Toomulkun,  who  doubtless  brought  De 
wata  s  word  to  the  Limbings. 

Ah,  but  the  terrible  wrench  it  was  to  see  the  Son  of  Fire 
march  away  at  the  head  of  his  men,  to  peer  from  her  conceal 
ment  in  the  reeds  and  strain  her  eyes  for  a  last  glimpse  of  the 
mighty  figure  of  him  who  nearly  crushed  her  when  he  took 
her  in  his  arms. 

But  Dewata!  His  will  must  first  be  done — and  then  she  would 
do  hers — then  the  marches  of  the  Son  of  Fire  should  not  be 
so  long  or  his  sign  so  faint  that  Esa  would  not  overtake  and 
hover  near  him! 

Never  should  the  Son  of  Fire  escape  her! 

At  the  best,  her  journey  must  be  a  long  one.  She  must  has 
ten.  The  distance  she  had  drifted  down  stream  in  a  day 

[259] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

when  captive  to  the  old  slave-raider,  the  Saligan  Ishmael, 
she  could  not  hope  to  retrace  against  the  current  in  less  than 
six  days. 

So  furiously  plied  her  paddle  throughout  the  night,  with  no 
more  than  brief  intervals  of  rest,  ever  keeping  within  slower 
waters  near  the  bank  and  getting  the  advantage  of  all  the 
remansos,  the  swift  backwater  always  found  where  the  bank 
is  deeply  indented. 

But  no  more  was  the  dawn  brightening  the  east  than  the 
cunning  jungle  girl  worked  her  craft  into  concealment  deep 
within  a  wide  belt  of  cana  brava.  Alone  and  weaponless,  it 
would  be  madness  to  travel  by  day,  for  any  turn  of  a  bend 
might  expose  her  to  some  enemy.  The  Maratuns  she  knew 
were  out,  and,  long  lacking  jungle  news  as  she  did,  she  had 
no  notion  of  what  inter-clan  wars  might  not  be  on. 

Her  craft  well  hidden,  a  very  few  minutes  sufficed  to  collect 
and  stow  away  a  hearty  breakfast  of  jungle  products;  and 
then  she  quickly  swarmed  up  lianas  into  the  leafy  seclusion 
of  a  lofty  tree  top,  where,  gently  rocked  by  the  cool  breezes 
blowing  down  from  Mt.  Apo,  she  safely  slept  throughout  the 
day. 

Evening  come,  down  to  the  lower  branches  of  her  aerial  bed 
chamber  Esa  softly  slipped,  there  stopping  long,  listening 
and  cautiously  peering  about  until  quite  sure  no  folk  were 
near — and  then  slid  down  a  bejuco,  swift  as  a  ray  of  light, 
foraged  her  supper,  worked  the  vinta  out  of  its  concealment 
and  again  bent  hard  to  her  paddle. 

And  so,  wearily  up  stream  she  toiled,  night  by  night.  Hour 
ly,  swifter  grew  the  current  as  she  penetrated  deeper  into  the 
bosom  of  the  hills,  and  the  slower  was  her  progress.  Muscles 
ached  cruelly,  but  her  brave  will  never  weakened :  she  must 
hasten,  to  become  free  to  race  to  him! 

It  was  the  dawn  of  the  seventh  morning  since  leaving  the 
launch  when  Esa  landed  behind  the  bend  next  below  Pugsan. 

Stealthily  she  crept  forward,  writhing  through  the  vines  and 
undergrowth  easily  and  noiselessly  as  a  python. 

Presently  she  could  hear  the  splashings  and  shouts  of  her 

[260] 


ESA'S  RETURN  TO  MT.  APO 

clanfolk,  disporting  themselves  in  the  MalbuFs  cool  pools. 

On  and  on  she  crept,  nearer  and  nearer. 

It  was  the  height  of  the  hot  season,  and  so  the  clanfolk  lin 
gered  long  in  the  river. 

And  when,  finally,  they  came  trooping  back  from  the  river, 
while  passing  near  the  great  Council  Chamber  where  it  had 
been  their  wont  to  assemble  to  listen  to  the  tales  of  their 
Lukus  and  the  instruction  of  their  Ingorandy,  they  got  the 
fright  of  their  lives. 

What  in  Dewatas  mighty  name  was  that? 

All  stopped  stock  still,  frozen  stiff,  of  surprise  and  terror. 

Yes,  they  could  not  be  mistaken;  out  there  in  the  Council 
Chamber  rose  and  fell  the  low  melodious  notes  of  a  kuteeha- 
pee,  accompanying  a  sweet  voice  that  softly  intoned  their 
favorite  tale! 

Ye  Gods  of  Mt.  Apo,  but  what  else  could  it  be  but  the  spirit 
of  their  Lukus,  the  great  Usup ! 

His  very  spirit,  it  must  be,  for  never  in  life  was  his  voice  so 
sweet ! 

And  since  the  spirits  of  the  dead  are  no  more  welcome  visi 
tors  among  savage  than  among  civilized  folk,  in  another  in 
stant  all  were  racing  in  mad  terror  into  the  jungle,  led  by  the 
sturdy  figure  of  their  doughty  young  chief,  Tugan,  son  of 
Punungan. 

But  just  as  he  was  plunging  into  the  bush,  a  scream  of 
laughter  reached  Tugan's  ears,  and  a  familiar  voice  cried: 

"Stop,  foolish  Tugan!  It's  I,  Esa,  returned  to  you!" 

And  it  was  a  very  crestfallen  Tugan  who  first  halted  and 
then  made  his  way  back  very  gingerly  into  the  Council 
Chamber,  until  upon  near  approach  he  made  sure  it  was 
really  Esa  in  the  very  flesh. 

Then,  his  face  blazing  with  joy  over  the  return  of  the  idol 
of  his  boyhood,  upon  her  the  young  stalwart  rushed. 

But  when  he  made  to  seize  her  in  his  arms,  he  got  a  heavy 
slap  on  the  cheek  that  sent  him  reeling  and  made  him  realize 
that  the  slender  idol  of  his  youth  had  matured  into  a  very 
powerful  young  woman. 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

Quickly  round  about  them  thronged  the  clanfolk,  wild  with 
delight  to  see  her,  treating  her  with  familiarity,  like  the  child 
she  was  when  she  left  them. 

But  after  kindly  greetings  to  right  and  left,  Esa  drew  her 
self  up  and  in  the  cold,  hard  tones  Tugan  had  long  ago  learn 
ed  to  dread,  tones  like  Punungan  used  to  the  warriors,  she 
said: 

"Back,  my  children,  and  listen.  Usup  and  Lancona  are 
dead." 

"Ah,  the  great  Usup  and  the  good  Lancona  have  gone  to 
join  Punungan?"  interrupted  Tugan. 

"Yes,  Tugan;  Dewata  called  them. 

"And  now  it  is  your  Ingorandy  and  Lukus  who  stands  be 
fore  you  in  the  person  of  Esa !  For  by  Dewata  s  will,  since  her 
childhood,  and  up  to  the  hour  of  his  death,  Usup  was  ever 
training  Esa  in  the  tribal  lore  and  magic. 

"And  in  Esa  also  behold  your  Medicine  Woman,  for  Lan 
cona  made  her  wise  as  was  she  herself  of  the  good  and  the 
bad  magic  of  all  the  plant  life  of  the  jungle. 

"So  remember,  and  mark  her  well;  it  is  only  through  Esa 
you  may  invoke  Dewata  s  mercy,  only  of  Esa  receive  the 
tribal  lore." 

At  the  first  note  of  Esa's  cold  tones,  the  chatter  of  the  clan- 
folk  ceased  and  faces  fell  grave  of  awe;  Tugan's  gravest  of 
all. 

But  presently  Tugan's  face  brightened  and  he  said : 

"And  now  it  is  come  true,  Tugan  is  glad.  Don't  you  remem 
ber,  little  Esa,  how  Tugan  divined  it  the  day  we  fought  the 
python  and  the  wild  boar?" 

"Yes,  good  Tugan,"  Esa  quietly  answered,  "and  it  was  her 
knowledge  that  one  day  this  power  must  be  hers  that  you 
used  to  think  made  Esa  look  right  through  you,  like  you  were 
not  there." 

Whereupon  Tugan  and  others  standing  near  shivered  and 
drew  back.  For  here  among  them  again  once  more  stood  a 
familiar  of  the  mighty  Dewata! 

That  was  a  busy  day  for  Esa. 

[262] 


ESA'S  RETURN  TO  MT.  APO 

She  gave  herself  no  rest — felt  she  dared  not  lose  a  moment's 
time. 

She  must  get  to  him,  to  the  Son  of  Fire. 

The  afternoon  she  spent  in  the  Council  Chamber,  first 
listening  to  such  as  sought  her  intercession  with  Dewata. 
And  since  so  long  all  had  been  denied  it,  naturally  few  were 
those  who  did  not  so  appeal  to  her. 

And  this  task  finished,  toward  evening  for  an  hour  she  held 
them  spellbound  with  tales — of  the  slavery  of  Usup,  Lan- 
cona  and  herself  among  the  Moros,  of  the  vileness  of  the 
Moro  Datus  and  the  Chino  traders,  of  the  marvellous  magic 
of  the  'Mergans. 

At  nightfall,  tired  as  she  was,  aloft  to  her  old  nest  in  the  tree 
tops  Esa  led  Tugan.  She  must  have  an  understanding  with 
him. 

And  it  was  a  very  meek  and  respectful  Tugan  who  followed 
her,  for  his  jaw  was  still  sore  of  the  blow  with  which  she  had 
received  his  first  greeting. 

But  now  Esa  was  gentle  and  kind,  as  of  old,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  had  him  all  smiles  when  she  said: 

"I  always  knew  my  good  Tugan  would  make  a  great  chief. 
Tugan  has  done  well.  Already  our  clan  is  nearly  twice  as 
strong  as  under  Punungan." 

"Tugan  is  glad  Esa  has  returned  to  learn  that  Tugan  has 
fought  many  battles,  won  much  loot,  killed  many  Moros. 
Tugan  thought  they  had  killed  Esa,  and  he  warred  the  Moros 
until  they  withdrew  farther  outside  the  hills  than  he  dared 
follow." 

"Tugan  has  indeed  done  well  to  so  win  peace  and  plenty 
for  our  people.  But  Tugan  does  not  know  that  the  'Mergans 
have  driven  the  terrible  Maratuns  and  many  other  Moros 
up  into  the  hills.  They're  ranging  now  all  about  us,  perhaps 
near,  certainly  not  very  many  days'  travel  distant." 

"So!  The  Maratuns  out!  Then  I  must  advance  and  double 
my  guards." 

"By  all  means.  But  the  'Mergan  warriors  are  now  on  the 
trail  of  the  Maratuns,  and  it  is  of  that  I  want  to  speak  to  Tu- 

[263] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

gan.  Since  the  'Mergans  are  pursuing  our  enemies,  the  Mara- 
tuns,  to  their  death,  the  very  same  Maratuns  who  raided  and 
ravished  our  village  of  Pugsan,  Esa  would  lead  a  small  band 
of  our  warriors  to  the  'Mergans'  aid,  for  there  may  be  rare 
chances  to  sink  our  poisoned  blow-gun  darts  deep  into  the 
hated  Moro  flesh." 

"Well  thought,  is  that,  little  Esa;  but  it  is  Tugan's  place  to 
lead  our  warriors." 

Instantly  the  soft  voice  hardened  and  the  great  luminous 
almond  eyes  glittered  fire  as  Esa  answered: 

"Perhaps  Tugan  did  not  understand  Esa;  she  said  she  would 
lead  our  warriors." 

"Well,  well,"  stammered  poor  Tugan;  "it's  just  like  it  was 
before  you  went  away.  I  just  felt  you'd  one  day  have  to  be 
Chief  as  well  as  Lukus  and  Ingorandy." 

"By  no  means,  good  Tugan.  Esa  wants  you,  for  the  clan's 
chief — so  long  as  you  do  her  will.  But  mind  you  do  that,  lad; 
mind  you  do  Esa's  will!  Against  Esa's  magic  none  can  pre 
vail!  Esa  holds  all  lives  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand!" 

PoorTugan  was  hit  so  hard  he  shrank  back  and  nearly  pitched 
off  their  lofty  perch,  for  perhaps  more  even  than  the  mighty 
Dewatas  wrath  did  he  fear  Esa  when  her  tones  grew  cold. 

"But  it  shall  be  just  as  you  say,  little  Esa,  in  everything. 
Only — only — Tugan — he  still  wants  you  like  he  used  to. 
Won't  Esa  will  to  let  Tugan  have  her  to — to  be  his?" 

Her  voice  was  very  gentle  but  her  face  and  eyes  stayed  hard 
as  flint,  as  Esa  answered,  "No,  Tugan,  you're  never,  never, 
to  think  of  that  again,  much  less  speak  of  it  to  Esa.  You  are 
a  good  Tugan,  and  Esa  likes  you  better  than — better  than — 
almost  anyone.  But  Esa  will  do  her  own  choosing — and  mind 
you  never  question  her  on  her  choice!" 

"It  makes  me  hurt  all  over  to  hear  that,  little  Esa,  but  al 
ways  shall  things  be  just  as  you  say." 

"Ah,  good  Tugan,  that's  what  I  expected  of  you ;  and  we'll — 
I'll  make  this  the  strongest  Monobo  clan  in  all  these  forests. 
Esa  may  go  from  you,  but  she  will  come  back — and  always 
shall  you  be  protected  by  her  magic." 

[264] 


ESA'S  RETURN  TO  MT.  APO 

It  was  evening  of  the  fourth  day  after  her  arrival  at  Pugsan 
before  Esa,  acting  in  her  capacity  as  Ingorandy  had  managed 
to  finish  her  invocations  of  Dewatas  mercy  over  the  innu 
merable  offerings  tendered  by  her  long-neglected  tribesmen. 

But  once  this  absolutely  necessary  task  was  concluded,  the 
early  dusk  found  Esa  stealing  swiftly  through  the  jungle  at 
the  head  of  a  little  column  of  twenty  of  Pugsan's  boldest 
warriors,  all  armed  to  the  teeth  with  their  blow-guns,  spears, 
and  bows  and  arrows,  in  eager  quest  of  the  Son  of  Fire. 


CHAPTER  LV 
HIS  GUARDIAN  ANGEL 

In  the  morning  Captain  Tony  Trigg  and  his  company  of  little 
brown  terriers  would  be  back  in  Cotabato.  Their  three 
months'  campaign  through  the  hills  lying  between  Mt.  Apo 
and  Davao  Bay  was  ended.  They  had  embarked  that  morn 
ing  at  the  junction  of  the  Malbul  and  the  Kabakan  Rivers, 
on  a  launch  summoned  by  a  message  he  had  sent  to  head 
quarters  by  vinta. 

But  it  was  an  altogether  horrid  sight  they  would  make  when 
they  disembarked  at  Cotabato. 

The  launch  had  come  none  too  soon,  for  many  of  the  men 
were  scarcely  able  to  stand,  near  complete  collapse  of  weak 
ness.  For  three  months  they  had  been  hiking  through  the 
jungles,  strangers  to  rest,  the  last  month  living  on  roots  and 
wild  forest  products,  eked  out  with  little  monkey  or  wild  pig 
meat,  as  it  had  been  seldom  Captain  Trigg  had  ventured  to 
disclose  his  presence  by  game  shooting  while  on  the  trail  of 
the  Maratuns.  The  enemy  must  first  be  struck;  then  the 
survivors  could  feed  and  fatten. 

All  were  tangled  of  beard  and  hair  as  the  jungles  they  had 
been  threading,  nearly  naked,  wasted  to  nothing  but  skin 
and  bone. 

A  number  of  men  were  wholly  naked,  their  cartridge  belts 
encircling  bare  loins. 

Mere  walking  skeletons  of  men  were  they  all,  ghastly,  grin 
ning  of  face  as  ever  are  fleshless  skulls. 

However,  there  were  no  gaps  in  their  ranks;  they  were  all 
there,  every  last  one  of  the  little  brown  terriers  that  had 
started  out,  thanks  to  Captain  Trigg's  tireless  vigils  and  clever 
bush  strategy,  and  there  were  no  wounded. 

At  least  none  of  his  original  command  was  wounded,  but 
one  recruit  who  had  joined  him  near  the  end  of  the  campaign 
was  so  badly  slashed  in  the  side,  of  a  kris  cut,  that  it  caused 

[267] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

the  Captain  keen  anxiety — and  with  abundant  good  reason, 
for  it  was  to  the  courage  and  adroitness  of  this  recruit  that 
he  owed  his  life. 

Warned  by  the  launch  whistle  of  their  approach,  the  Gov 
ernor  was  at  the  landing  to  meet  them. 

Loud  and  cordial  were  the  greetings,  and  as  the  terriers 
came  feebly  wobbling  over  the  gang-plank,  Morine  sympa 
thetically  remarked,  "Good  God,  Tony,  it's  a  bunch  of  skele 
tons  you  all  are,  but  it  looks  like  you've  not  lost  any  of  your 
little  lot." 

"Nary  a  one,  Joe,  and  none  wounded.  Just  good  luck,  of 
course." 

"Good  luck  be  d— d;  it's  thanks  to  your  rare  good  bush 
training.  But  no  wounded?  What's  that  they're  carrying 
ashore?"  indicating  a  stretcher  that  four  of  the  men  were 
carrying. 

"That,  Joe?  Oh,  that's — well,  Joe,  that's  a  recruit  that  join 
ed  us  during  my  scrap  with  the  Maratuns,  and  took  some 
kris  slashes  that  otherwise  I  should  have  had  to  myself  as 
similate,"  Tony  rather  awkwardly  stammered. 

"A  recruit!  What  do  you  mean?  That's  a  new  game,  re 
cruiting  in  the  jungle,  no?" 

"Well,  yes,  I  guess  it  is — and  this  one  recruited  itself,  just 
naturally  volunteered,  see?" 

"Oh!  But  who  the  devil  is  it?" 

"Sorta  thought  you'd  guess,  Joe,"  Tony  rather  sheepishly 
answered;  "it  s — why,  Joe,  it's  Esa." 

"The  hell!  Might  have  known  it,  if  I'd  had  a  lick  of  sense;" 
followed  by  a  laugh  Tony  so  little  appreciated  that  he  rather 
sharply  warned: 

"Might  cut  out  that  laugh,  Joe.  It's  only  twice  that  Esa 
has  actually  saved  my  life  since  I  first  hit  the  trail  of  the 
Maratuns.  But  for  her,  your  old  mate  would  be  rotting  out 
there  in  the  bush." 

"Pardon  a  thousand  times,  Tony,"  the  Governor  seriously 
answered;  "d— d  heedless  of  me  and  I'm  very  sorry.  That 
makes  three  times,  then,  counting  the  scrap  you  had  at  Gan- 

[268] 


HIS  GUARDIAN  ANGEL 

ta,  when  she  nipped  the  Moro's  heel.  Don't  wonder  at  your 
appreciation,  my  boy;  she's  about  the  most  practical  ex 
ample  of  a  Guardian  Angel  I  ever  heard  of." 

"Dead  right  you  are,  Joe;  but  excuse  me,  please,  for  I  want 
to  see  her  safely  stowed  at  the  hospital." 

"Right-o  lad,  and  then  hustle  down  to  chow — and  spin  me 
your  yarn." 

That  comfortable  and  generous  breakfast  was  a  great  lux 
ury  to  Tony,  but  of  it  he  ate  very  sparingly,  too  wise  to  over 
load  a  stomach  weakened  and  shrunken  of  long  fasting. 

The  meal  over,  the  Governor  eagerly  urged,  "And  now  for 
your  yarn,  my  boy.  Must  have  had  one  rotter  of  a  time  by 
the  condition  you're  all  in." 

"About  the  roughest  I  ever  bucked  into,  Joe,  and  I'm  sick 
of  it — not  of  the  hardship  or  fighting,  mind,  but  of  potting 
brave  men  that  have  no  show  against  our  arms.  But  we'll 
come  to  that  later.  First,  I  want  to  tell  you  about  Esa. 

"You  see,  it's  this  way.  The  day  we  sailed  I  saw  nothing  of 
her,  but  that  night  she  smuggled  herself  aboard  the  launch 
so  cleverly  disguised  that  none  recognized  her,  either  aboard 
or  after  we  disembarked.  And  once  landed  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Malbul,  she  stole  a  small  vinta  and  slipped  away  up 
stream  to  join  her  people." 

"Sure;  sure  as  shooting;  I  was  certain  of  it,"  the  Governor 
answered,  "only  I  fancied  she'd  stick  tight  to  you,  never  leave 
you." 

"Ah,  Joe,  but  she  was  too  clever  for  that — or  maybe  feared 
I'd  send  her  back.  But  I  guess  it  was  all  just  her  wonderful 
strategy.  You  couldn't  beat  it  in  a  thousand  years,  Joe.  She 
figured,  and  dead  right,  too,  that  our  biggest  danger  was  from 
flank  or  night  attacks.  And  what  the  devil  did  she  do  but  re 
turn  to  her  village,  gather  a  bunch  of  her  Monobo  warriors 
and  split  criss-crossing  through  the  bush  until  she  finally  cut 
my  trail. 

"Fact  is,  she  got  to  us  shortly  after  I  first  struck  the  sign  of 
the  Maratuns,  but  never  once  showed  up.  But  day  by  day 
and  night  by  night  she  and  her  wild  warriors  were  stealing 

[269] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

through  the  jungle  silently  as  leopards,  screening  my  flanks 
and  advance,  and  prowling  around  us  of  nights. 

"Three  different  nights,  she  says,  the  Maratuns  tried  to 
sneak  us,  but  got  such  a  peppering  from  her  blow-guns  that 
they  bunked.  And  I  guess  that's  right  enough,  for  one  day 
she  saved  me  from  an  ambush — even  dropped  a  dead  Moro 
into  my  arms  when  I  was  sure  his  meat  axe  was  about  to  chop 
my  head  off — and  left  me  the  worst  puzzled  guy  you  ever 
saw,  for  the  only  sign  of  our  helpers  was  the  arrows  with  which 
they  decorated  our  enemies." 

"But  for  the  Lord's  sake,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  saw 
none  of  the  Monobos,  Tony,  through  the  days  and  weeks 
they  were  haunting  your  trail?" 

"Nary  a  single  glimpse,  Joe — not  until  the  final  scrap,  and 
then  none  but  Esa." 

"Well,  if  that  don't  beat  all  the  scouting  I  ever  heard  of." 

"Ha,  but  the  finish,  Joe;  listen  to  that.  Why  that  was  when 
she  just  naturally  set  a  new  record  in  the  Guardian  Angel 
business. 

"We  were  about  all  in,  scarcely  another  day's  march  left  in 
us,  when  one  evening,  shortly  after  making  our  night  camp, 
my  sergeant  called  my  attention  to  the  dull  glow  of  camp 
fires  in  the  valley  below  us,  and  perhaps  three  hundred  yards 
distant.  The  Maratuns  must  have  thought  they  had  thrown 
us  off  their  scent,  I  suppose.  Anyway,  there  they  were  at 
last,  a  gift  in  the  last  nick  of  time  if  I  made  no  bad  break 
stalking  them. 

"To  the  right  I  sent  my  sergeant  and  fifteen  men  to  swing 
past  them  to  the  valley  and  slip  up  stream  on  them;  my  teni- 
ente  led  another  detail  straight  at  them,  ordered  to  get  as 
near  as  he  could  and  lay  low  until  the  sergeant's  column  and 
mine  were  in  position,  while  I  led  the  rest  of  my  men  to  the 
left. 

"Of  course  the  teniente  was  the  first  to  get  into  position,  on  a 
high  bank  commanding  their  camp  and  only  fifteen  yards 
from  it. 

"I  had  reached  the  valley  and  deployed  my  men  in  open 

[270] 


HIS  GUARDIAN  ANGEL 

order  across  it,  and  was  sneaking  slowly  down  stream,  when 
suddenly  from  behind  a  tree  I  had  laid  my  hand  on  to  save 
myself  from  a  slip,  out  sprang  a  Moro  sentry,  racing  down 
toward  their  camp  and  shouting,  "Mergans!  'Mergans!' 

"Instantly  the  teniente  opened  fire  on  the  startled  camp,  fol 
lowed  shortly  by  fire  from  the  sergeant's  column,  while  I 
held  my  fire  and  awaited  the  rush  I  was  sure  would  come  as 
soon  as  they  realized  that  escape  down  stream  was  cut  off. 

"God,  but  it  was  a  scandal  the  way  our  dum-dummed 
Spitzer  bullets  cut  up  that  brave  lot,  men,  women  and  chil 
dren  alike,  but  help  it  we,  of  course,  couldn't.  Some  charged 
straight  into  our  flankers,  some  into  the  sergeant,  but  the 
bulk  burst  up  stream,  where  my  silence  had  led  them  to  think 
they  might  escape. 

"On  they  came,  men,  women  and  children,  in  a  wild  rush; 
but  holding  my  fire  until  they  were  within  ten  yards  of  us, 
over  they  bowled  like  trees  before  a  cyclone  when  we  opened. 

"A  lot  of  it  was  pitiful.  One  woman  carrying  a  baby  and 
aided  by  her  husband,  was  hit  by  a  Spitzer  that  killed  the 
baby,  nearly  tore  one  arm  free  of  the  shoulder  and  left  very 
little  flesh  above  the  elbow,  we  later  learned,  but  at  that  did 
not  knock  her  down. 

"At  this,  her  husband  furiously  rushed  at  us,  coming  straight 
at  me,  as  it  chanced.  By  that  time  the  magazine  of  my  car 
bine  was  exhausted.  But  I  was  not  worrying  as  I  rapidly 
emptied  my  pistol  into  him,  for  I  knew  that  my  men  were 
also  shelling  him. 

"That  was  about  the  most  God-awful  sight  ever  sprung  on 
me,  Joe.  D— d  if  I  didn't  want  to  help  him,  would  have  spar 
ed  that  Moro  if  I  could,  for  he  was  just  splendid,  charging  on 
nothing  but  his  nerve,  for  I  knew  I  was  not  missing  him  and 
that  at  every  jump  he  was  chambering  the  Spitzers  of  my 


men. 
"Yet 


on  he  came,  like  we  were  peppering  him  with  pea  shoot 
ers,  until  my  pistol  was  empty,  and  I  threw  it  at  nis  head — 
and  missed! 
"Just  one  more  jump  and  he'd  have  me  meat-axed! 

[271  ] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

"And  if  you  want  to  know,  I  was  telling  Tony  Trigg  adios 
when — what  the  devil  do  you  think?  Under  my  arm  slipped 
a  slim  dark  figure  that  leaped  through  the  air  at  my  Moro 
like  a  panther — and  down  they  went  together! 

"Well,  as  soon  as  I  could  shake  the  surprise  of  it  and  look 
the  pair  over,  there  lay  Esa,  badly  gashed  by  his  kris,  and 
beside  her  lay  the  Moro,  with  the  long  chonta  point  of  a  Mon- 
obo  spear  driven  clean  through  his  heart!" 

"By  God,  she's  a  girl  in  a  million!"  the  Governor  enthusi 
astically  interrupted. 

"Little  off  in  your  calculation,  Joe,"  Tony  quietly  answered, 
"I'm  figuring  she's  about  one  in  ten  millions.  Jesus!  but 
where  would  you  find  her  equal?" 

"Well,  I'm  not  taking  the  job  of  hunting  one.  If  she  isn't  a 
finished  article  as  a  warrior's  mate,  then  one  was  never  foaled. 
And  the  Moro — I  suppose  he  finally  consented  to  quit." 

"Not  'til  he  got  Esa's  spear-thrust,  Joe,  though  there  were 
fourteen  bullet  holes  in  him!" 


[272] 


CHAPTER  LVI 
THE  MARTYR  TO  THANKLESS  WORK 

When  Captain  Tony  Trigg  had  finished  his  story  of  the  death 
of  the  Maratun  who  had  been  stopped  by  Esa's  spear-thrust, 
both  Governor  Morine  and  he  for  some  time  sat  silent.  But 
finally  the  Governor  remarked: 

"Of  course,  wounded  as  she  was,  you  had  to  bring  her  back 
here." 

"Sure,  Joe;  wouldn't  you?" 

"Yes,  certainly;  I  didn't  mean  you  shouldn't.  But  what  of 
your  Maratuns?" 

"Oh,  Lord,  Joe,  that  little  valley  was  just  a  shambles.  Don't 
believe  a  half-dozen  escaped.  Left  eighty  odd  of  them  there 
in  the  bush,  food  for  the  vultures  and  the  pigs,  for  the  boys 
finished  the  wounded  with  bolos  or  bayonets,  as  usual,  all 
but  three  women  whose  wounds  were  not  so  bad  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  try  to  bring  them  in. 

"And  not  one  of  my  men  got  so  much  as  a  scratch.  What  do 
you  think  of  that?  Just  couldn't  get  to  us.  Several  had  as 
close  calls  as  I,  but  not  one  of  the  poor  devils  of  Maratuns, 
the  very  best  of  all  the  Moro  warriors,  managed  to  score  on 
us. 

"Fact  is,  it  has  sickened  me  of  the  game,  so  disgusted  me 
you  needn't  be  surprised  if  I  throw  up  my  commission.  I'm 
just  d— d  if  I  believe  I  can  stand  any  more  of  this  butchery. 
Sure  it's  fighting,  and  fighting  like  hell,  where  a  man  has  got 
to  rattle  his  hocks  to  get  to  stay  on  earth,  but  so  he  knows  the 
game  these  Morosjust  cant  get  to  him.  Better  take  to  the  bush 
than  stick  to  this  bloody  game,  I'm  thinking." 

"Take  to  the  bush?  What  do  you  mean,  Tony?" 

"Oh — why  take  to  any  old  game  or  place,"  Tony  parried. 

"Ah,  yes;  I  see.  Don't  blame  you,  me.  My  resignation  is  in 
and  I'm  off  for  Manila  myself  shortly,  for  all  my  hopes  of 

[273] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

peace  and  industry  here  are  vanished.  And  what  of  this  Mon- 
obo  girl  when  she  comes  out  of  the  hospital,  Tony?*' 

"Well,  Joe,  I  may  as  well  admit  that's  bothering  me  a  lot. 
Guess  it  would  be  better  all  round  if  she'd  stayed  and  gone 
to  the  States,  as  Ruth  was  planning  she  should.  But  maybe 
you  didn't  know  that;  maybe  Ruth  never  told  you." 

"Why,  no — no,"  the  Governor  hesitated. 

"Sure;  told  me  she'd  decided  to  throw  up  her  school  and 
take  Esa  home  to  the  States,  meant  to  regularly  adopt  her, 
educate  her,  and  all  that.  But  now  Ruth  must  be  gone  these 
two  months  or  more,  no?  She  said  she  was  going  on  the  next 
transport  after  I  left.  Did  she?" 

Governor  Morine's  face  fell  and  he  paled,  but  Tony  did  not 
notice  it,  as  he  answered : 

"Yes,  my  boy,  Ruth  Snell  is  gone — home — by  the  transport 
you  say  she  had  planned  to  take." 

"And,  of  course,  you've  heard  from  her;  she  wrote  from 
Manila,  no?" 

"N — o,  Tony,  not  a  word  from  her  have  I  received." 

"What?  That's  strange,  after  you  were  such  good  pals." 
And  then  after  a  brief  pause,  Tony  added,  "You — you  didn't 
split  with  Ruth,  too,  did  you,  Joe,  like — like  I  did?" 

"Break  with  her?  No,  thank  God.  But  you — you  broke 
with  her,  Tony?" 

"Yes,  Joe,  the  night  before  I  embarked  for  the  field  we  both 
agreed  we  must  always  disagree.  God,  Joe,  but  I  loved  Ruth 
Snell — well,  knowing  me,  perhaps  you  can  realize  how  much 
— and  maybe  she  cared  as  much  for  me  as  she  could  for  any 
body,  but — well,  I  guess  it  was  just  a  misfit  in  temperatures, 
and  finally  both  of  us  became  convinced  of  it. 

"It's  been  the  hardest  wrench  of  my  life  to  tear  that  girl  out 
of  my  heart,  Joe;  had  me  bitterly  struggling  through  many 
a  lonely  jungle  march — but  now,  at  last,  I'm  safe  and  sane 
again,  ready  to  pack  my  cargo  and  hump  along  life's  trail,  by 
— well,  I  guess  by  myself." 

The  Governor  rose  nervously,  strolled  back  and  forth  across 
the  room  several  times  in  silence,  and  then  approaching 

[274] 


THE  MARTYR  TO  THANKLESS  WORK 

Captain  Trigg  and  putting  an  arm  affectionately  around  his 
shoulders  and  looking  down  into  his  eyes,  whispered: 

"I'm  sorry,  boy,  but  you've  got  to  know  it." 

"What — what's  up,  Joe?  Got  to  know  what?  You  frighten 
me.  Is  she  here?  Has — has  anything  happened?" 

"Ruth  is  gone  home — gone  to  her  long  home,  is  Ruth  Snell, 
my  dear  Tony." 

"Christ!  You  don't  mean  that?" 

"Yes,  my  boy,  Ruth  Snell  died  a  martyr  to  our  thankless 
work  out  here,  to  the  task  of  intervention  to  better  these 
natives  that  is  costing  the  States  so  heavily  in  blood  and 
treasure." 

"Dead,  Joe?  Ruth  dead?  But  how?  Of  what,  please?" 

Stammering,  halting,  in  few  words  as  possible,  Joe  told 
Tony  the  sadly  gruesome  facts — and  then  for  some  time 
these  two  strong  men  sat  with  bowed  heads  and  covered  eyes. 

Finally,  Tony  sprang  to  his  feet  and  cried,  "Tumog!  Joe, 
where's  Tumog?  I'll  go  slash  off  his  ears  and  make  him  eat 
them — slit  his  d~d  assassin's  carcass  into  ribbons.  Where  is 
he?" 

"Tumog  is  in  the  guard  house — where  you'll  leave  him  alone, 
Tony.  No  use;  I've  gone  my  limit  to  find  evidence  to  war 
rant  dealing  with  him,  but  there's  none  to  justify  it." 

Tony  Trigg  was  a  hard  man  to  hold  when  his  resentment 
was  aroused,  but  he  had  his  master  in  Joe  Morine,  whom  no 
man  long  contraried  once  his  glinting  steel-blue  eyes  narrow 
ed  and  the  laughing  mouth  straightened  to  an  ugly  slit. 

So,  presently  ,Tony  cooled  down  and  quietly  answered,"Sup- 
pose  you're  right,  Joe;  you  about  always  are.  And,"  grabbing 
Morine  fiercely  by  the  shoulders,  "don't  I  know  you'd  have 
murdered  him  yourself  if  there'd  been  any  sort  of  excuse  for 
it!" 

And  then  without  further  words,  he  left  the  house  and  sought 
his  quarters. 


275] 


CHAPTER  LVII 
BROODING  OVER  GRIM  PICTURES 

It  was  a  fortnight  later,  the  evening  before  Governor  Mor- 
ine  was  to  sail  for  Manila,  and  Tony  was  come  to  his  quar 
ters  for  a  farewell  visit. 

For  Tony  it  had  been  a  fortnight  of  physical  rest  that  was 
very  grateful,  but  of  the  most  acute  mental  trial. 

He  was  sick  of  baiting  and  butchering  Moros,  but  it  would 
be  a  terrible  wrench  to  quit  the  service. 

His  mad  man's  love  for  Ruth  Snell  she  herself  had  effaced, 
but  there  remained  his  love  of  all  he  had  hoped  she  would 
one  day  mean  to  him,  and  it  is  perhaps  our  vanished  ideals 
that  we  often  mourn  most. 

Then  there  was  his  future — and  Esa's — for  strive  as  he 
would  he  could  not  dissociate  his  future  from  hers.  That  was 
just  out  of  the  question.  She  had  been  too  much  to  him,  in 
too  many  respects. 

Esa  couldn't  say  she  loved  him,  for  she  knew  no  such  word, 
but  great  God,  how  royally  she  could  live  love! 

Had  saved  his  life  three  times,  each  time  at  deadly  peril  of 
her  own !  Red  blood !  Hers  was  the  reddest  of  the  red. 

What  a  contrast  she  with  the  types  of  metropolitan  women 
who  must  ever  be  whetting  their  anaemic  sensibilities  at  mat 
inees  and  whose  chance-taking  is  limited  to  a  stake  at  bridge 
or  to  the  outrage  rather  than  a  defense  of  their  husband's 
honor — the  apartment-hotel-dwelling  sort,  who,  ceasing  to 
discharge  any  of  the  useful  functions  of  domestic  economy, 
quickly  descend  to  a  class  it  is  unnecessary  to  name,  become 
parasitic  burdens  instead  of  helpmates. 

And  since  even  yet  all  men  are  battlers,  in  one  way  or  anoth 
er,  at  one  game  of  life  or  another,  who  would  not  prefer  a 
devoted,  bold-hearted,  battling  helpmate  to  a  trifling  oda 
lisque?  Who,  at  least,  of  all  who  are  not  wholly  ignorant  of 
the  worth  of  such  high  types?  Only,  of  course,  few  indeed 

[277] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

there  are  rash  enough  to  be  willing  to  commit  themselves  to 
savagery  to  so  advantage  themselves.  That  Tony  was  not 
blind  to,  any  more  than  to  the  fact  that  any  so  adventuring 
commit  themselves  to  social  ostracism. 

But  what  the  devil  has  society  to  give  that  promises  and  de 
livers  half  so  much? 

Thus  it  was  a  very  preoccupied  Captain  Trigg  who  dropped 
into  a  chair  alongside  of  Morine  and  so  long  remained  silent 
that,  presently,  the  latter  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm  and  sympa 
thetically  asked: 

"Still  up  a  tree,  lad?  Still  puzzling  over  your  plans?  I've 
been  hoping  and  rather  expecting  you'd  decide  to  sail  with 
me." 

"Hardly  that,  Joe;  not  just  yet  shall  I  sail.  But  I  don't  be 
lieve  I  can  get  my  own  consent  to  go  out  and  slaughter  any 
more  Moros." 

"Right-o,  boy;  I've  felt  sure  of  that.  But  have  you  heard 
of  the  Crater  Fight  in  another  of  our  Moro  Provinces?" 

"Why,  no,  Joe;  what  sort  of  an  affair  was  it?" 

"Oh,  a  proper  wholesale  massacre  this  time — of  no  less  than 
sixteen  hundred  of  them. 

"It  was  this  way,  the  lot  had  abandoned  the  rancherias  and 
rice  paddys  and  fled  to  the  mountains  on  learning  the  troops 
were  to  be  sent  to  compel  them  to  pay  taxes  on  their  work 
beasts. 

"The  position  they  elected  to  occupy  was  the  interior  of  an 
extinct  crater,  within  which  there  was  a  spring  of  fresh  water. 

"The  upper  slopes  of  the  approach  to  the  crater's  lip  were 
so  precipitous  that  only  at  one  point  was  there  access  to  it, 
after  a  long  and  nearly  perpendicular  climb  through  dense 
jungle.  Hence  they  thought  the  position  impregnable. 

"Horse,  foot  and  artillery  were  sent  against  them — infan 
try,  cavalry,  mountain  guns  and  howitzers. 

"The  cavalry  was  left  in  the  open  at  the  foot  of  the  moun 
tain  to  pick  up  stragglers,  and  the  rest  of  the  men,  after  the 
most  severe  labor  and  some  hard  fighting,  managed  to  win  up 


BROODING  OVER  GRIM  PICTURES 

to  a  position  on  the  edge  of  the  crater  whence  they  could 
train  their  guns  on  the  Moros. 

"The  slaughter  began  shortly  after  noon. 

"The  heat,  of  course,  was  terrific;  and  since  the  firerof  our 
guns  and  riflemen  soon  cut  them  off  from  access  to  the  spring, 
by  late  afternoon  the  Moros  had  become  so  desperate  that 
up  they  came,  charging  en  masse  bound  to  die  or  to  cut  their 
way  out  of  the  trap  they  were  in. 

"As  usual,  of  the  Moros  there  were  no  survivors,  while,  also 
as  usual,  our  casualties  were  insignificant!" 

"Good  God,  Joe,  you  mean  it  was  a  total  wipe  out  of  sixteen 
hundred  men,  women  and  children?  That's  the  biggest  in 
dividual  lot  yet  bagged." 

"Precisely — and  is  it  not  horrible?  Of  course,  once  the  troops 
had  attacked  the  Moros  it  became  wholly  impossible  to  spare 
them;  you  can't  spare  people  who  persist  in  fighting  until 
they  are  all  dead. 

"But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  fact  that  they  are  driven  to 
such  desperation  is  due  exclusively  to  the  policies  pursued  by 
our  authorities,  the  policies  that  from  month  to  month  and 
from  year  to  year  will  continue  turning  more  and  more  of 
these  Moros  into  outlaws,  and  getting  them  so  slaughtered, 
until  Congress  and  the  home  public  learn  the  shameful 
facts  and  the  voice  of  outraged  humanity  succours  them,  or 
until  the  last  of  the  old  fighting  blood  of  this  race  is  extermi 
nated." 

"You're  putting  it  none  too  strong,  Joe.  It's  God's  truth 
you're  telling.  That's  just  the  way  I  see  it.  If  the  local  au 
thorities  are  allowed  to  continue  to  rigidly  censor  all  news  of 
happenings  in  these  provinces,  and  so  manage  to  keep  Con 
gress  and  the  home  public  ignorant  of  the  shocking  state 
of  affairs  here,  this  warfare  is  bound  to  go  on  indefinitely." 

"Yes,  and  it  further  follows  that  the  more  timid  and  time 
serving  Datus  who  remain  on  their  lands  and  have  been  ap 
pointed  by  the  authorities  as  Tribal  Ward  Headmen,  the 
local  lovers  of  loot  and  women,  are  perpetuated  in  their  an- 

[279] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

cient  privileges  and  exercise  more  despotic  control  over  their 
people  than  before  our  coming/' 

For  some  time  both  sat  silent,  brooding  over  the  grim  pic 
tures  of  the  hunting  of  a  race  to  its  death  which  their  conver 
sation  had  conjured  up. 

Finally,  Tony  rose  and,  laying  a  hand  affectionately  on  the 
Governor's  shoulder,  said: 

"Joe,  you're  doing  right  to  leave,  and  I  trust  I'm  myself  not 
too  hopelessly  wrong  in  not  leaving  with  you.  I  just  can't  go; 
not  just  now,  anyway;  but  here's  a  communication,"  passing 
to  Governor  Morine  a  large  envelope,  "I  ask  you  not  to  open 
until  you  are  at  sea,  which  will  tell  you  as  much  of  my  plans 
as  I  myself  now  know." 

And  then,  before  Governor  Morine  had  time  to  answer  him, 
Captain  Tony  Trigg  whirled  and  left  the  house. 

It  was  not  until  the  vessel  that  bore  him  was  standing  in  for 
the  port  of  Zamboanga  that  Governor  Morine  opened  the 
large  envelope  Captain  Trigg  had  given  him.  The  note  was 
very  brief  and  simple.  It  read : 

"Dear  Joe: 

"Please  deliver  the  enclosed  at  headquarters,  as 
addressed.  It  contains  my  resignation  from  the 
Constabulary. 

"Think  of  me  sometimes,  old  mate;  and,  what 
ever  you  may  hear,  try  not  to  think  unkindly  of 

Your  Old  Pal, 

TONY  TRIGG." 

For  some  time  Morine  sat  gravely  nodding  his  head,  and 
then  murmured  to  himself:  "He'll  never  leave  that  Monobo 
girl — and  I'm  not  a  d— d  bit  sure  I  can  find  it  in  my  heart  to 
blame  him." 


[280] 


CHAPTER  LVIII 
ADRIFT  IN  THE  MISTS 

No  argosy  bearing  a  man  and  a  maid  out  into  the  golden 
morning  of  love  ever  carried  a  lighter  cargo. 

Besides  his  own  weapons  and  her  tiny  kuteebapee,  the  vinta 
held  naught  but  the  pair  of  them. 

And  they  themselves  held  naught  but  their  mad  love  for 
each  other. 

The  swift  flooding  tide  was  bearing  them  rapidly  inland, 
straight  toward  Mt.  Apo. 

The  paddles  lay  idle  in  the  bottom  of  their  craft;  that  was 
no  time  for  work — with  paddles. 

Costumed  in  the  height  of  Monobo  fashion,  that  is  to  say 
wearing  practically  no  costume  at  all,  the  nymph  the  sun's 
rays  always  turned  to  burnished  gold  lay  in  Tony's  arms. 

He  wore  a  look  of  satisfaction;  she  wore  a  smile. 

The  sweet-scented  night  breeze  intermingled  its  sensuous 
kisses  with  theirs;  the  mists  caressed  them;  the  river  sang 
to  them ;  as  one  hammered  their  two  hearts. 

Their  past  they  have  shed,  as  does  a  buck  its  antlers. 

Their  future — ah,  leave  that  to  the  Rio  Grande's  golden 
flood;  let  it  bear  them  where  it  would. 

Esa  had  him  she  wanted ;  Tony  had  the  girl  he  loved. 

Basta!  Enough. 

Dawn  was  near.  Soon  Dewatas  great  eye  would  be  glowing, 
scattering  the  mists  that  had  so  well  served  to  isolate  the 
drifting  lovers.  Soon  concealment  must  be  sought  ashore. 

Esa  reclined  sleeping. 

Tony  lay  dreaming,  his  head  so  sweetly  pillowed  that  it  was 
gently  rising  and  sinking  as  on  that  never-to-be-forgotten 
day  when  it  first  lay  on  Esa's  moist  breast.  Dreaming  he  lay, 
dreaming  of  the  happiness  realized  and  the  happiness  yet  to 
be,  communing  with  himself. 

But  presently  a  hateful  vision  came  to  him,  a  horrid  vision 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

that  easily  might  have  terrorized  a  heart  less  bold  than  his. 

But  to  it  he  lazily  murmured: 

"Ho!  Ho!  You  here?  Well,  upon  my  word  as  first  punish 
ment  to  the  wicked,  you're  a  wonder.  Can't  even  let  a  fellow 
get  well  started,  can  you,  Mr.  Devil?  Didn't  know  there  was 
aerogram  service  between  Mindanao  and  Hades.  Nor,  lack 
ing  any  confidants,  can  I  figure  out  who  piped  me  off  to  you. 
And  my  compliments — please  accept  them;  as  a  trailer,  your 
stunt  of  picking  us  up  out  here  in  the  mists  entitles  you  to 
receive  first  prize. 

"Ha!  So?  You're  figuring  you've  got  me?  Sinned?  Sure  I've 
sinned — and  like  it,  if  you  want  to  know,  like  it  so  well  your 
torrid  bluffs  don't  go,  see?  So  you  just  run  along  and  toast 
your  cloven  hoofs  on  your  own  furnace  doors,  for  they'll  soon 
get  frostbitten  up  here — unless  you  stay  close  to  us. 

"What?  What's  that?  You  be  doubly  damned  for  the  in 
fernal  liar  you  are.  This  girl  has  killed  a  lot,  is  a  murderess? 
It's  false  as  your  diggings  are  foul.  Of  course  she  has  killed, 
but  never  once  save  in  self-defence  or  while  battling  to  pro 
tect  the  life  of  one  she  loved.  That  I'll  swear  by  God.  She's 
a  queen,  is  this  girl,  fit  mate  for  the  boldest-hearted  warrior 
king  of  all  history.  You  curse — " 

But  just  then  the  rapid  thinning  of  the  mists  warned  Tony 
to  spring  to  his  feet  and  seize  and  swiftly  wield  a  paddle — 
whose  vigorous  strokes  served  to  drive  the  vinta  deep  among 
sheltering  reeds,  and  to  escape  from  his  hateful  visitor. 


[282] 


CHAPTER  LIX 
THE  REVELATIONS  OF  A  FEVER 

Tugan  did  not  bother  them. 

Any  resentment  he  may  have  felt  over  the  return  of  Esa 
mated  with  the  Son  of  Fire  he  never  in  any  way  showed.  He 
did  not  dare.  Esa  had  frightened  him  too  badly  for  that,  be 
fore  she  led  her  twenty  warriors  on  the  march  to  intercept 
the  'Mergans. 

Indeed,  peace  reigned  without  as  well  as  within  the  village 
of  Pugsan.  Their  ancient  enemies,  the  Moros,  were  so  con 
tinually  harried  by  the  'Mergans  that  their  raids  of  the  Mon- 
obo  clans  for  plunder  and  slaves  had  for  some  time  ceased. 

And  ye  gods  of  Mt.  Apo,  how  happy  was  Esa!  She  had 
come  into  her  own,  realized  the  last  of  her  dreams.  The  clan 
both  revered  and  feared  their  Ingorandy  and  loved  their 
sweet-voiced  Lukus — and  were  correspondingly  generous  in 
their  tribute.  And  she  was  gentler  with  them  even  than  had 
been  Usup,  so  long  as  they  obeyed  her. 

Indeed,  it  was  hard  for  her  to  so  much  as  frown  upon  a  mal 
content,  for  she  was  just  drunk  with  the  joy  of  her  mating 
with  the  Son  of  Fire. 

Nor  was  the  Son  of  Fire  one  whit  less  content  and  happy 
than  was  she. 

He  had  dreamed  it,  but  never  had  he  ventured  hope  of  real 
izing  it. 

What  had  he  done  to  deserve  so  much? 

Here  he  was  in  full  enjoyment  of  the  broadest  FREEDOM 
the  world  holds — free  of  the  galling  shackles  of  Law  and  Con 
vention,  free  of  the  jealousies  and  hatreds  they  combine  to 
engender,  free  of  the  greed  and  strife  they  foster,  emanci 
pated  from  all  life's  cares! 

Here,  mated  with  the  most  adorable  girl  in  the  world,  he 
was  downily  nested  in  one  of  the  sweetest  nooks  of  Nature, 
where  all  voices  are  low  and  melodious  as  the  trills  of  Esa's 

[283] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

kuteehapee  and  the  whisperings  of  the  leaves,  and  all  charac 
ter  and  life  as  clean  as  the  Malbul's  limpid  waters — here 
among  idyllic  folk  where  no  tongue  lies  and  no  hand  steals ! 

To  Hades  with  Civilization,  with  its  deceits  and  its  hypoc 
risies,  its  slavery  to  blood  or  money  castes,  its  remorseless 
plotters  and  looters,  its  spineless  men  and  its  denatured  women ! 

Here  about  him  were  no  women  who  love  baubles,  dogs  and 
picture  hats  more  than  they  love  maternity! 

Sin?  To  be  sure  he  was  sinning  against  all  conventions, 
from  their  point  of  view,  from  the  home  point  of  view.  But 
who  was  actually  sinning  most  in  day  to  day  life,  they  in 
their  artificial  environment  or  he  here  among  these  simple, 
clean-living  tree-top  folk? 

But  care?  Freedom?  How  poor  Tony  Trigg  was  deceiving 
himself! 

Never  may  one  be  long  free  of  care,  and  never  has  freed  slave 
lived  so  long  that  he  has  not  remained  shackled  to  the  tradi 
tions  of  his  bondage. 

The  chains  of  convention  into  which  he  had  been  born  he 
had  cast  off,  but  its  traditions  remained.  And  they  were  to 
exact  their  scot  for  his  infidelity  to  them. 

One  night,  very  few  nights  after  their  arrival  in  Pugsan,  Esa 
complained  of  a  violent  headache.  Shortly  thereafter  a  high 
fever  developed. 

Under  her  instructions,  the  Son  of  Fire  prepared  and  gave 
her  to  drink  of  a  potion  she  was  sure  would  quickly  relieve 
her. 

But  for  once  the  medicine  woman  was  at  fault. 

All  night  long  her  pain-racked,  burning  body  tossed  of  the 
fever's  torture,  probably  because  it  was  one  of  the  stubborn 
types  common  to  the  coastal  plain  with  which  her  preceptress, 
Lancona,  had  never  learned  to  contend. 

And  all  night  long  the  Son  of  Fire  hovered  helpless  beside 
her,  more  terribly  tortured  than  was  she. 

Was  he  soon  to  lose  her? 

Well,  by  God,  he  wouldn't! 

If  Esa  needs  must  go,  so  would  he! 

[284] 


THE  REVELATIONS  OF  A  FEVER 

Toward  dawn  delirium  ensued. 

Esa's  fevered  brain  began  to  wander  and  she  to  talk — of  the 
wild  incidents  of  the  jungle's  duskiest  labyrinths,  of  chases 
of  game,  questing  for  herbs  with  Lancona;  of  her  fight  for 
escape  from  the  amorous  old  Wa-Tu,  of  the  death  of  the  Da- 
tu  Linta  and  her  rescue  by  the  Son  of  Fire. 

Ah,  but  what  was  that?  Now  she  was  speaking  of  the  white 
woman,  of  Ruth! 

At  first  her  words  came  in  such  a  hot  burst  of  passion  that 
they  were  unintelligible.  AH  he  caught  was : 

"Go  with — 'Mergans'  country — leave  him — crazy — never!" 

Then,  after  a  wild  laugh,  the  soft  voice  distinctly  hissed : 

"Such  a  fool,  that  white  woman,  to  think  her  magic  greater 
than  Esa's !  Ho,  ho !  She  didn't  know  that  Esa  holds  all  lives 
in  the  hollow  of  her  hand!  And  she  thought  she  could  take 
Esa  away  from  the  Son  of  Fire?  Poor  fool !  She  didn't  know 
that  Esa  would  kill,  kill,  kill  to  prevent  that!  Of  course,  if  she 
were  to  go  on  a  smoking  boat,  Esa  must  follow,  for  that  she 
had  promised  the  Son  of  Fire.  But  if  the  white  woman  couldn't 
go,  then  Esa  was  free — free,  free,  FREE  to  go  to  him! 

"And  it  was  all  so  easy;  just  that  one  little  flick  of  the  bolo, 
and  then  Esa  was  free!" 

Tony  Trigg  could  hear  no  more.  Springing  to  his  feet,  he 
rushed  out  of  the  hut  and  into  the  jungle,  care  hard  upon  his 
heels,  happiness  fled. 

It  was  late  the  second  day  thereafter  when  he  returned,  to 
find  Esa  up  and  about  but  still  very  feeble,  and  nearly  crazed 
by  his  absence. 

Nor,  of  course,  could  she  understand  him  when  he  roughly 
repulsed  her  caresses. 

"But,  Son  of  Fire,  what  is  it?"  she  anxiously  asked;  "your 
eye  is  as  terrible  as  Dewata's  when  he  is  at  his  angriest." 

"Tell  me,  girl,  the  truth — but  of  course  I  know  you  cannot 
lie.  While  your  head  was  sick,  you  said  things  that  make  me 
think  it  was  you  who  killed  the  white  woman.  Did  you?" 

"Why,  yes,  Son  of  Fire;  I  never  dreamed  you  would  not 

[285] 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

know  it  was  Esa,"  and  she  smiled  up  at  him  with  the  inno 
cent  pride  of  a  child  who  has  done  well. 
For  an  instant  he  stood  trembling  of  the  realization  that  it 

was  he,  he  himself  who  was  responsible  for  the  death  of  the 

pure  woman  he  had  once  so  dearly  loved,  and  of  rage  at  her 

savage  murderess — and  then  he  snatched  his  bolo  and  lifted 

it  to  deal  penalty. 
But  all  in  the  same  instant  the  big,  soft,  almond  eyes  were 

looking  anxiously  up  into  his,  and  the  sweet  voice  inquiring : 
"Pobrecito!  Poor  little  one,  but  you  are  sick,  are  you  not? 

If  not,  I  don't  understand.  I  killed  to  stay  with  the  Son  of 

Fire." 

The  bolo  clattered  to  the  floor,  as  he  murmured  to  himself: 
"No!  no!  no!  I  could  never  strike  her;  I'm  to  blame  and  / 

must  pay!" 
And  then  as  he  gently  but  firmly  pushed  her  from  him,  he 

added  aloud: 
"That's  just  the  trouble,  Esa;  you  do  not  understand,  and 

you  never  can — while  I,  my  God,  /  must  always  understand, 

may  never  forget." 
For  some  time  the  strong  man  stood  trembling,  his  face 

deeply  lined  with  agony. 
Finally  he  murmured  to  himself,  "That's  it.  I  owe  no  less — 

to  Ruth.  /  must  pay!"  And  then,  dropping  his  eyes  to  Esa's, 

he  hoarsely  whispered: 
"Esa,  I  leave  tomorrow,  never  to  return." 
"And — and  Esa?"  the  soft  voice  anxiously  queried. 
"Esa  will  stay  with  her  people." 
"The  Son  of  Fire  is  Esa's  god;  his  will  is  hers." 
The  suffering  face  softened  and  he  answered  very  gently: 
"I'm  so  very  sorry,  gordita,  but  it  must  be  so,"  and  then  he 

turned  and  left  the  hut. 


[286] 


CHAPTER  LX 
LANCONA'S  MAGIC 

They  were  alone  in  the  hut.  Their  supper  was  just  finished, 
a  frugal  meal  made  up  of  vegetables  boiled  in  sections  of  green 
bamboo  tube  and  boar  meat  roasted  over  embers. 

It  was  their  last  evening  together. 

At  dawn  he  was  to  begin  his  journey  down  the  Malbul  to 
the  sea. 

Neither  had  spoken  since  the  morning. 

But  never  through  the  meal  had  Esa's  eyes  left  his  face.  No 
tear  moistened  them,  but  they  were  so  full  of  the  unspeakable 
agony  of  one  taking  a  last  look  at  her  best  loved  dead  that 
seldom  did  he  dare  let  his  glance  meet  hers. 

So  for  some  moments  they  remained  seated,  still  silent,  but 
only  for  a  few  moments. 

Presently  a  startled  look  swept  across  his  face,  quickly  fol 
lowed  by  an  expression  of  agonized  dread. 

Slowly,  with  difficulty,  like  one  suddenly  stricken  with  the 
palsy  of  great  age,  he  rose  to  his  feet,  swaying  like  a  tottering 
forest  monarch  honeycombed  by  the  brocas. 

Up  to  her  feet  also  struggled  Esa,  staggering,  scarcely  able 
to  stand. 

Toward  her  he  feebly  stretched  his  arms  and  stammered : 

"But  what — what  is  it?  My — my  eyes — they  are  dim — my 
strength — is  gone — my  tongue — " 

"Lan — Lancona's  magic!  Esa  put  it  in — in — the — food. 
Esa  cou — could  not  let  the — Son  of  Fire  go — go — alone!" 

And  then,  gathering  the  last  of  her  failing  strength,  on  him 
she  sprang,  clasping  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  pressing  her 
lips  to  his,  as  on  that  fateful  night  in  the  old  stone  fort  on 
Tantuan  Hill. 

Close  he  clasped  and  tenderly  he  fondled  her. 
[287]  ;   - 


THE  LOVE  OF  LOOT  AND  WOMEN 

They  swayed  and  tottered. 

But  just  before  they  toppled  to  the  floor,  and  there  lay  still, 
he  whispered: 
"Esa  has — has  done  well — ve — very  well!" 


[288] 


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3503   The  love  of 


PS 
3S03 
B783  1 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  000918821  o 


